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

The stats

This week a year ago, encouraged by my Ever Encouraging Husband, I joined Strava. I would not have noticed this fact had it not been pointed out to me by EEH, aka Coty. He loves Strava - all those stats, segments, elevation profiles, energy outpout numbers, effort comparisons and achievements. He uses the heatmaps to find good routes when we ride in new places. He knows how fast he needs to ride to get a PR on a segment and how fast the KOM (King of the Mountain) rode the segment. He is King of the Mountain on a number of segments.

For the record, we even share King and Queen of the Mountain on a segment that is called by the poetic name, "O Pioneers!" Sounds like we braved the elements, crossed the prairies in our covered wagon, ascended the distant, snow-covered peaks and conquered a kingdom. Really, all we did was ride a little bit faster on a not very hilly stretch of Pioneer Mill Road, than the seven other people who have ever ridden on that particular 2.6 mile stretch of road. No one was there to crown us when we reached the end of the segment, no fanfare, no cheering throng. Shoot, we didn't even know we'd become royalty til we got home and uploaded our rides and checked our stats. But king and queen we are, that is until someone else coming down Morrison from Flowe Store decides to turn left instead of right. One of these days, I expect someone who is hankering for ascendancy to the throne will make that turn and we'll be summarily dethroned.

Anyway, what I also wanted to say about Strava is that it is one of the ways Coty continues his longstanding, unfailing encouragement of my exercise endeavors. Instead of "liking" a post as you do on facebook, Strava which is not just a workout log, but also social media for athletes, allows you to give "kudos." You click on the little thumbs up icon on your friend's entry and there it is, kudos! Yay for you! Way to go! No matter what I do, ride 30 miles or stroll 2, he gives me kudos on Strava. I once told him it wasn't necessary - seemed kind of silly if we had just finished a ride together and he could just tell me in person. Which he always does. But on every single Strava entry I've posted, he has, without fail, given me kudos. And I don't think it's silly anymore. It is sweet. And encouraging. And constant. Like he is.

So, here's what he showed me tonight - the Trophy Case page of my profile which I'd never noticed before that tallied what I've done in the last year ...

Bike rides - 1,207.9 miles
Runs and walks - 226.3 miles
Swims - 29.25 miles

It will be interesting, a year from now, to see what those numbers are. It is always my intention to do more, be more consistent, ride farther, run faster, swim longer. That'd be nice, but even if I don't, I know the kudos will keep coming from the man who has faithfully encouraged me as loooong as I've known him!