Saturday I had the opportunity to spend my morning at the church with several other women. There were 6-8 different projects we could work on ... and each project was going to a different charity. There was a table all set up for assembling hygiene kits, one section of the room was filled with two quilting frames and women were tying quilts, at another table women were making hair flowers and headbands, and on another table some women (and young women) were putting together art kits. I brought my sewing machine to help sew together drawstring bags for children in foster care.
I lugged in my machine and set it up, then walked over to the table to get some fabric. I quickly found out that the women who were in charge of this activity were well prepared. There were stacks of pillowcases, a bag filled with canvas cords, and another pile of old t-shirts. The woman in charge of the bag area explained to me that we were cutting off the sleeves and collars of the t-shirts, then sewing the hem of the shirt together to make the bag. The armholes became handles. So ingenious for efficiency and utility.
After grabbing a pile of t-shirts I sat down at my machine (my NEW sewing machine, incidentally) and starting sewing. As I was sewing the hems together on my third bag, a small screw fell out of my machine and landed on the t-shirt bag. I sat there stunned for a while, then looked in my machine as well as I could without taking the cover off to see if I could see where the screw came from. Nope. So, I finished sewing that bag to see if the missing screw would cause problems. Everything still looked okay, so I finished up my stack of t-shirt bags. While working on one or two bags I heard a slight *spring* coming from my machine. So, at that point, I set aside my machine and decided I'd better help on a different project.
At this point, Eliza came over to my table. She was in the children's class with all of my children (Jon was the one taking care of all of the children who needed to come with their moms), and was deathly bored. So, I set her down with my scissors and we cut off all the thread from the seams in the bags I'd just sewn.
While we were sitting there talking I watched another woman guiding a girl about Eliza's age in using a sewing machine to make the t-shirt bags. I couldn't help but feel that the women all around me were angels. Each of them could have been doing something different with their time on a Saturday ... something less self-sacrificing. But, instead of doing something for themselves, or even their own families, they were at the church doing something for other people who probably truly appreciate the service. And, this particular woman was passing on her knowledge, not only of sewing, but also of service to the next generation.
I realized that the work we were involved in was exactly what we, as women of God, are called to do. We are here to lift up the sad and lonely, to help the sick and physically weak, to provide aid to our own sisters of God, and to nurture and teach our daughters in these important tasks. And, I am a part of it. I felt so much joy and love for all of the women around me ... none of whom I knew ... and was so thrilled to be a part of an organization that spans across the globe and reaches into the hearts and hands of every one of our Heavenly Father's children.
I lugged in my machine and set it up, then walked over to the table to get some fabric. I quickly found out that the women who were in charge of this activity were well prepared. There were stacks of pillowcases, a bag filled with canvas cords, and another pile of old t-shirts. The woman in charge of the bag area explained to me that we were cutting off the sleeves and collars of the t-shirts, then sewing the hem of the shirt together to make the bag. The armholes became handles. So ingenious for efficiency and utility.
After grabbing a pile of t-shirts I sat down at my machine (my NEW sewing machine, incidentally) and starting sewing. As I was sewing the hems together on my third bag, a small screw fell out of my machine and landed on the t-shirt bag. I sat there stunned for a while, then looked in my machine as well as I could without taking the cover off to see if I could see where the screw came from. Nope. So, I finished sewing that bag to see if the missing screw would cause problems. Everything still looked okay, so I finished up my stack of t-shirt bags. While working on one or two bags I heard a slight *spring* coming from my machine. So, at that point, I set aside my machine and decided I'd better help on a different project.
At this point, Eliza came over to my table. She was in the children's class with all of my children (Jon was the one taking care of all of the children who needed to come with their moms), and was deathly bored. So, I set her down with my scissors and we cut off all the thread from the seams in the bags I'd just sewn.
While we were sitting there talking I watched another woman guiding a girl about Eliza's age in using a sewing machine to make the t-shirt bags. I couldn't help but feel that the women all around me were angels. Each of them could have been doing something different with their time on a Saturday ... something less self-sacrificing. But, instead of doing something for themselves, or even their own families, they were at the church doing something for other people who probably truly appreciate the service. And, this particular woman was passing on her knowledge, not only of sewing, but also of service to the next generation.
I realized that the work we were involved in was exactly what we, as women of God, are called to do. We are here to lift up the sad and lonely, to help the sick and physically weak, to provide aid to our own sisters of God, and to nurture and teach our daughters in these important tasks. And, I am a part of it. I felt so much joy and love for all of the women around me ... none of whom I knew ... and was so thrilled to be a part of an organization that spans across the globe and reaches into the hearts and hands of every one of our Heavenly Father's children.
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