Every day in June #s 13, 14, & 15

The streak is still going. 25 miles on Monday with Coty, and then two short days, squeezing rides in between thunderstorms or at the end of a long day. I am finding that the first few strokes on the pedals are like a deep breath. Riding a bike makes me feel like a kid sometimes. Pedal, breathe, coast, lean into a turn, stand up and pump going up a hill, lean way down gripping the lower bars, back parallel to the ground, fly downhill. I finish each ride coasting down the street and then a few pedal strokes to shift to a higher gear so the next day's start will be easier. I turn into the driveway, a slight uphill, and stand up on my bike over the bump and down the driveway, like a jockey at the end of a race. I am that ten year old girl who dreamed of race horses and pretended to win the Derby.

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I was very sad today when one of my students, an Afghan woman who wears a hijab, explained to me that the reason she hadn't come Monday or Tuesday was that she was afraid to walk from her apartment the half mile to the center. Someone might be angry with her because of the gunman in Orlando, she said. I am afraid, she said. Drivers passing by would not know, of course, that her husband has a Purple Heart and that he fought shoulder to shoulder with American Marines in his home country, the country he had to flee because he fought with the US. I couldn't tell her not to feel afraid because she is right, her fear is not irrational. Someone might see her hijab and be angry. There could be some backlash. I could only say I'm sorry you feel afraid and tell her that I pray for her protection. She asked if I could give her some fabric so we pulled out bags of brown and purple, her choices. She will make beautiful headbands with embroidery and earn money for her handwork and be delighted that she is able to help her family with the skill of her hands. When I was leaving the building, she saw me and waved and smiled and blew me a kiss. I wanted to cry for all the crazy, terrible, unjust, beautiful, messed up, sweet, tender things in this world.

I came home with two teenagers - one from Congo, one from Burma. They are beautiful, bright, thoughtful girls. They swam for two and a half hours, laughing and lounging in the pool.

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We are reading aloud again. Coty reads and I cut fabric or press quilt squares. Deep jewel colors - purple and teal - and goldenrod in simple squares are the start of a new quilt. I am working at it slowly, but reading together in the evenings will speed it along.

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It's morning now, after a night of storms. The air is cooler and fresh. I hear a wren. The coffee is brewing. I will sit on the porch for a bit and read. It's a very good way to start a day.

Every day in June #9

Today ...

H, from Vietnam, wondered aloud why her life is so hard. Why did her husband leave her? Why does her 21 year old son have kidney disease and have to go to dialysis every week? Why did she have stomach problems two weeks ago and go to the emergency room and then get a bill for $4000? Why did she have to leave her home country?

F, from Afghanistan, brought her brother's paperwork and we looked over the Department of Defense form that will have to be filled out in order to try and locate his American supervisors. We came up with a list of things she will have to find out from him in order to complete the forms. His life is in danger. He just wants to bring his family to this country to be safe. F is desperate for any help she can find to help make that happen.

T, from Nepal, told me about her husband's friend's mother who died yesterday from blood cancer at age 52. There will be a three day wake which, she said, is very hard on the family.

How little it seems our sewing can do in the midst of problems like these. What a small thing it is to sit beside a woman and show her how to thread a sewing machine. And yet ... I have a waiting list of many more beginning students than we can accommodate in the new classes we'll add in September. Women who want to be in a sewing class  for two hours in hopes, of what? 

Full time employment at a living wage? I can't promise that.

Their own business to provide a fair wage income for their family? I can't promise that.

Solutions to the problems like the ones I heard today. I can't begin to promise any of that.

 But there are things that after three years of teaching sewing classes to refugee women I can offer ...

Teachers that will share the love of Christ in word and deed; who will offer not only their knowledge but their hearts.

Teachers that will patiently walk beside students as they learn new skills and show them over and over and over again, as many times as it takes, how to thread the machine, where to put the bobbin, how to sew a simple seam. As many times as it takes.

Teachers that will go beyond the classroom into their homes and become friends. Teachers who will walk beside them, trying to learn and understand their struggles and helping with needs as we are able or pointing them to others who know better than we do how to deal with their problems.

Laughter. I can offer them laughter. Plenty of it. And smiles. And hugs.

Creativity. I can offer them the opportunity to stretch their dormant creative wings, to try new things and not have to worry about judgement. I can offer encouragement support, and applause for their efforts.

I can offer a place that is safe and warm and welcoming, where hurts can perhaps be salved for a while to the rhythm of a sewing machine. I can offer that balm, and hope for healing for women who have experienced traumas I can barely imagine. 

Classes are over for this term for Make Welcome. We need a break to refresh and recharge, to plan and prepare, so that we will be ready for a new term of classes come September, when the learning and loving and growing will continue, Lord willing.

We can't pay hospital bills, or heal kidney failure or cancer, or bring families fearful for their lives to safety. But we can show up with fabric and scissors and sewing machines and instruction and love.  That's what we'll do and we'll wait, expectantly, to see how God will work in our midst

Apron pockets and creativity

In our Make Welcome sewing class this morning, we were taking a second go at sewing a simple apron pattern. We sewed these aprons last week and it went well, but it was a learning experience. Slow going. Lots of questions. This second time gave them more practice with the pattern and greater confidence in their sewing. What also happened is that their creativity flowed, their own ideas came out, and they designed and executed their own plans.

It's a simple apron, but the opportunity to design pockets the way they wanted seemed to be real victories for a couple of the women. One of them kept smiling and saying how happy she was today. Another worked quietly, diligently, with little instruction, figuring things out and expressing when it was time to wind up class, both pleasure with her project and disappointment that she wasn't quite able to complete it today. She'll finish her ruffle edged, rounded pocket first thing next class.

Another student, a dear Eritrean woman with the most beautiful hands, struggled a bit to finish up her first apron from last week. Her hems weren't terribly straight, her edges not quite lined up. She doesn't like to pin and doesn't seem too concerned with detail, but when she finished, her delight was palpable. "For me?! I keep??!!" she asked, glee apparent in her treble, chirping words.

I get to be the teacher. I get to bring (so much donated) fabric each week, to decide together with our other teachers what projects we will tackle, what skills we will focus on. I get to watch light bulbs of inspiration and creativity shine brightly as women gain confidence and skills and dare to try something different, to experiment with their own ideas and bring them to completion. Today it was apron pockets. Where will their creativity shine next?!

Why "YES AND"

Yesterday I received two beautiful gifts. Well, actually they were in barter for services rendered - I taught a biology lab class to my dear friend's daughter a couple of years ago and I'm being paid over time in exquisite handmade items from Carla, my friend and incredibly talented artist, designer, and craftswoman.

The first gift was a midori style journal. The leather was dyed by Carla, and all the inner pages chosen and assembled with love and personal attention to things I like. The elastic band closure has the word "brave" stamped on it because I explained to Carla my need to be brave in the sewing studio - to step out and try things, to cut into fabric, to explore color combinations and new patterns, to sew without fear. I need that word in other areas of my life, too, as I often worry far too much about what others might think of my choices, instead of trusting God, wise counsel, and my gut.

You can see photos of my gorgeous journal here.

The other gift I received was a leather cuff bracelet with a pewter charm onto which Carla stamped the words YES AND. When I requested those words, she wanted to know why and here are the inspirations for this motto ...

 1) I have been following the work of modern quilter, Sherri Lynn Wood, for awhile. I love her recent book, The Improv Handbook for Modern Quilt. Because her work also focuses on sewing and social practice, I contacted her with questions about sewing and its possible benefit in trauma healing for our refugee friends. She graciously replied and encouraged me with suggestions of others to contact and books to read. Thank you, Sherri. The reason she is an inspiration for my YES AND bracelet is from comments she made on this podcast regarding the ways we influence our work and other areas of our lives by saying, "Yes, but ..." instead of "Yes, and ..."

"Yes, but ..." second guesses and gets us stuck.

"Yes, and ..." affirms and moves us forward.

"Yes, but ..." focuses on the negative, what we don't like, why we can't make it better.

"Yes, and ..." accepts the mistake and sees positive ways we can address or redress it.

"Yes, but ..." stifles creativity.

"Yes, and ..." fosters it.

So, wearing a YES AND bracelet while working on a quilt or designing a crossbody bag for Journey Home or even cooking dinner - really while engaging in any endeavor - sets the tone, the atmosphere for positive, beautiful, brave, creative work.

2) Long ago, I heard this Story Corps podcast. Actually, it was June 15, 2006, the NPR Story Corp webpage tells me. I remember exactly where I was driving (Morehead Road, past the Rocky River, going up the hill toward Highway 29). I also remember that I pulled off the road near one of the Speedway campgrounds because I got choked up and needed a few minutes to dry my eyes before I could drive on. What hit me then and has stuck with me since is the what Caywood says between 1:44 and 2:05 in this interview. A thousand yeses.



3) Finally, and undergirding it all, is my understanding of the overflowing, free grace of God, in Christ Jesus. Salvation is a gift in which God says, "Yes, and ..." over and over and over again in my life. In the midst of problems, mistakes, failures, wrongdoing, apathy, dryness, hurt, rejection, disappointment, fear and every other way in which my life goes awry, either by own doing or the consequences of others' actions, God gives "exceedingly abundantly above all that I could ask or imagine." When I am in the doldrums, I need the YES AND reminder that my beautiful, made with love, cuff gives me.

Thanks, sweet Carla. You didn't know how much was contained in those two little words when I asked for them, did you?!

On a bike

Riding a bike through the countryside is quite different from riding through it in a car. On a bike, you are part of the scene.  You take in the sites at a slower pace. You look longer and think about what you are seeing instead of whizzing by. There is no radio, no music, no podcast in the background. Just the sites and your thoughts. You also feel the air and smell the smells. Sun and shade along your way make a difference. You climb a long hill in the sun and then fly down the other side toward a bridge over the creek at the bottom of the hill. If the road along the creek valley is bathed in shade, you immediately feel the contrast of the cooler air against your skin and catch a whiff of the scent of water and damp earth. In a car, there is a screen and walls between you and the outside world. My dad mentioned this yesterday, referring to Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, which I've never read, but in which the author, as my Daddy related, speaks of the difference between riding in a car and riding on a motorcycle. A bike puts you even more in the picture because, well, you can't pedal as fast as a motorcycle takes you.

I look at people outside their houses when I bike. People on their porches. People working in their gardens, mowing their lawns, walking out to their mailboxes. On Monday, we rode a long loop around a Jordon Lake up near Chapel Hill. Along a quiet country road near the lake, we saw a big boat sitting parallel to the road in the yard beside a house. There was a man, shaggy hair under his baseball cap, sitting on a chair in the boat looking out at the road. He was just sitting there. Perhaps he was resting after working on the boat. Perhaps he was dreaming of taking that boat out in the lake early in the morning and catching a big bass and bringing it home to clean and cook on the grill. Who knows?

I like long rides because they give me a chance to step completely away from the to-do list. My brain gets a rest from thinking about what needs to get done and just roams over the countryside. I write little poems in my head, make up stories, take it all in.

Creative, generous friends

I have some very creative, generous friends.  Carla, who makes beautiful jewelry and mixed media journals,  agreed to make a necklace for me.  The ceramic beads she's using (pictured below) came from Kazuri Beads, in Kenya.

Waaaaay back in 1981, when Coty and I had first moved to Nairobi, we visited the workshops of Kazuri and watched women roll, shape, and paint the beads.  I still have two necklaces that I bought at that time.

This new necklace that Carla is making has special connections - it reminds me of a time and place that holds many fond memories, and it makes me think of my very dear friend, who is creating a work of art that I will treasure.

 
When Carla gets her blog up and running, I'll let you know.  You would enjoy seeing her work.

Thanks, sweet friend, for all the ways you encourage and inspire.