40 Reflections – #13: 40 days of raw recollections during the Lenten Season
I began sewing when I was nine. Mom guided my sisters and me as we stitched everything from duffle bags and terry cloth shorts to Gunne Sax dresses. She was a champion of whatever we wanted to tackle. One year I had my heart set on making a very fashionable ribbon dress. As I pinned and matched every notch, I was sure everything would look just like the picture on the McCall’s pattern. I was wrong, and I quickly learned the importance of a “ripper” the handy tool used to take out stitches and start again, and again and again. My ruffled sleeves puckered in the wrong places, and I even sewed one on completely upside down. Another do-over. Then I sewed on the gazillion pastel ribbons unevenly, so Mom helped me try again. She reassured me and encouraged me through every misstep, letting me trip a little and then helping me up. She built my confidence one stitch at a time.
I thought of this story the other day when Mom and I were making tortillas. The dough was a little sticky and Mom had the most gentle way of telling me the water I used to make them was too warm. She said, “Let’s see, did my recipe say warm water?” I reached into the cabinet for the weathered tortilla recipe she started using again to remind her about the 2 teaspoons of salt and baking powder.
“Yes, Mom, it says warm, not hot”, I replied.
“Okay, well, maybe you discovered something new,” she said.
“And look at all the different sizes of the tortillas! You know if you get the feel for how big each one will be, they’ll turn out the same size…but these are very colorful and creative.”
It was like I was 12 years old again and mom was reassuring me that I could rip out the stitches and start again. Everything would be okay.
What I learned:
Moms are the best.
Here’s to Another Good Day.
Thanks for joining me,
Lucretia
runonmom.com 