Ok. *Sigh* Here goes…
I’ve been avoiding writing this post all week.
I started the week avoiding my project and that pocket. I didn’t want to face it. I didn’t want to attempt it. Mostly, I didn’t want to fail again.
But you gave yourself such a great pep talk after the last failure!
I know. I know! But that fear of failure was still there, poking fun at me and telling me I’m no good! All week long I just tried to pretend the project was not there. I just decided that I would be busy with other things this week and I avoided my poor, innocent sewing machine once again. She didn’t do anything to deserve the cold shoulder.
I’m sorry little Singer. It’s not you–it’s me.
Well, last night I decided I could avoid it no longer so I charged headfirst into welted pocket land. I measured oh so carefully! Every little detail was checked and double checked! I sewed the pieces together with precision.
I reached for the scissors…
Time to cut open the pocket…
So far, so good…
Snip. *Gasp!* Nooo!
And with that one teeny, tiny little snip, I had failed. Again.
I’ve learned so much about welted pockets over the last week or two and one thing I know is that it has to be sewn and cut perfectly or it is no good. The smallest error will ruin it. So there was no fixing it. As soon as I cut a little too far, I put my scissors down, cleaned up my little make-shift “craft table” (a.k.a. the ironing board) and I walked away.
I had failed again but I didn’t want it to ruin my night. It could have and almost did (after the forth and final failure I’m surprised it didn’t). Going in to this forth attempt I knew that it was my last shot. I would be out of fabric after this so as soon as it happened, I knew the project I was working on was over. The fabric is out of stock–I can’t get more. Do I really want to get more of that fabric a this point? No, not really.
Tonight, I looked it over, tried to save it, and came to the conclusion that it really couldn’t be saved. My only option now is to use the fabric to make something else–something smaller than my original idea–no idea what it will be yet.
And then, at some point, my little sleeping bear woke up and started to fuss and cry. I put down what I was doing to go snuggle him back to sleep. Most nights he goes to sleep around 8:00–and then wakes up ready to jabber and play about an hour later!–but tonight I could tell that he was very sleepy.
He smiled his great big smile when I walked into the room and picked him up from his bed. As soon as I laid him next to me he was calm and quiet; his eyes were just half open. He turned his whole, little body toward me once or twice, to snuggle. He was a little restless too, so I sang to him.
And then he was very still.
Come, Thou Fount of every blessing,
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise…
…He, to rescue me from danger
Interposed His precious blood
He loves to listen when mommy or daddy sings to him. Pespective. What a precious, precious moment, making all other moments seem so unimportant. What a blessing and a crazy reality that I get to sing this little one to sleep. He doesn’t care about my successes or failures–just that I’m there. He just wants to know that I’m here and I love him. He drifted off to sleep knowing that.
P.S. I would go take a picture of him sleeping right now but I don’t want to wake him up. So here’s a picture of him sleeping when he was brand new :)