Sewing and Sowing

Sewing and Sowing

The raggedy doll in the topmost part of the closet caught my eye as I was getting ready for the day ahead. My eyes rested upon it for several moments, as I remembered the hands that had stitched and stuffed the cloth so many years ago. I was about 4 or 5 years old when “MaMa,” my maternal grandmother, bought the cloth at Hancock Fabrics to make the special doll just for me. The pattern was already there, and like a pillow, it just had to be stuffed and then stitched around the edges. It was not particularly pretty, but even as a little girl I somehow knew it was more special than a store-bought one. Little red hearts were on the doll’s cheeks, and she had a head full of curly blond hair. A red dress with a yellow apron was also depicted on the cloth. I named her April, and she became one of those special objects that a child associates with love and security. Objects of childhood normally get discarded somewhere along the way, but I’ve always kept April, unable to bring myself to part with her, even during times of “decluttering” and getting rid of unused items.

As I stood there in the closet on this particular morning, I also thought about the many quilts my grandmother had stitched for her family throughout the years, some of which were also high on the shelf above. It was something she could do, a practical gift, and until the time her eyes grew dim and her hands could no longer thread the needle, she was working on a quilt of some kind. Having been a young adult during the heart of the Depression, she was one to save and stretch a dollar. She would always say, “Someday we may need some of these quilts.” So, it was her way of taking care of her family, even in her advanced years.  Most of the time, she would just get scrap material from the fabric store because it was far less expensive. It was a hodgepodge of color and pattern, but somehow with the symmetry and accuracy in her quilting patterns, it always produced a beautiful result. She made all kinds of quilts, but my favorite by far was the “yo-yo” quilt. It was made up of hundreds of individual pieces of circular cloth, sewn around the border and then gathered in the middle so that it looked like a little wheel. The making of the individual pieces could pass a whole afternoon’s time, and I would often sit with her, trying my hand at the making of the yo-yos, feeling satisfied when one of mine was deemed good enough to be put in one of the many paper bags filled with them. Once there were enough individual pieces, she would sew them together at the edges, and then tack them down on a sheet or other covering. It was a beautiful thing; each stitch done with a sense of giving, giving what she could. Sewing and sowing. I can still see her now, sitting in her chair, sewing her fabrics and sowing into me and the rest of the family the sense of the powerful bond that only family can share and know.

When she passed away at the age of 98, her Bible she loved so well was a testimony of her life in and of itself. It was one that I had given her when I was just 18 years old, and worked at a bookstore as I went to school. The pages were so worn that it was about twice the size that it had been originally. As I held the Bible in my hands later, I thought about the fact that she did not just read it, but she let it read her. A woman of quietness and meekness, yet incredible strength and fortitude, she endured many hardships throughout her life. But her love of that Book made her who she was and who she became, and ultimately prepared her for her eternal home. It prepared her to sow into all of our lives; to sow into us what was most important.

Thank you, MaMa, for the many gifts you gave me, for your sewing and sowing. Your quilts still keep me warm on a cold winter’s night.

The one who sows righteousness reaps a sure reward. Proverbs 11:18

Whoever sows bountifully will also reap bountifully. 2 Corinthians 9:6