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Topic: Sewing (02/22/07)
By Tina Beauchamp
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Sewing is not just taking needle in hand; it is about creating who you are as a person and bringing that to life manifested in fabric. A person who sews, creates. A person who sews brings dreams to life. A person who sews takes nothing and makes something wonderful. A person who sews, loves….
That was my Aunt Sally. She was the most loving woman I had ever known. When I was a little girl, she would make me the most beautiful dresses. I was the envy of all my peers. She loved me, my Aunt Sally. She showed it through the perfect little dresses she created for my tiny little frame. I did not have a lot of friends when I was a little girl, I was little and skinny and the kids picked on me. But my world came to life when I went to Aunt Sally’s house. She loved me, my Aunt Sally.
She would sit at the table with pattern and scissors, waiting, waiting to create something wonderful. She peered through her grey, blue eyes with wondering, thinking, almost in anguish as to what to create. Should I? What if? I don’t know….ah ha! “That’s it”, she would exclaim. Confidently, once decided, she would start the process. Pinning, cutting, marking. She would carefully cut, then set aside the little pieces that looked to me like they would never become much of anything. As I watched her create, she would take only a quick second to look my way and wink as if to say, “I’ve got it!” She loved me, my Aunt Sally.
As the years passed by, I grew up and out of my Aunt Sally’s neighborhood, but she never stopped making one of her new creations for me. As times changed, so did Aunt Sally in creating what was never considered outdated. She changed with the times, never getting old fashioned. She loved me, my Aunt Sally.
One winter evening we got the call. Aunt Sally was gone. The sweet Lord had taken Aunt Sally home to be with Him. As we drove the long and saddened road to what would no longer be Aunt Sally’s home I remembered that it wasn’t the clothes at all, it was her that I loved so much. Her love, her time, her patience, her sewing. Our times together became the most prized possession I could ever know. When we drove up to Aunt Sally’s house, we piled out of the car to enter her home for the last time. That’s when I saw it.
Tucked in the corner of her living room sat the very sewing machine that she expressed so much love, closeness and creativity. As I drew closer I realized there was a note sitting erect upon the sewing machine! I opened the envelope that bared my name, gently, softly as if every second was more precious then the first. “Dearest Niece, I know that this machine can belong to no one but you. As you know, God did not bless me with children of my own, but you my love, are dearer to me than anyone could know. I pass this on to you, praying you may someday make the love in your home that you so freely brought to mine. I love you dearest, Love your Aunt Sally.”
Yes, she loved me, my Aunt Sally.
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