THE SEWING BASKET
Stitch by stitch, pieces of fabric are joined to create something new. Stitch by stitch, buttons are attached. Stitch by stitch, name labels make clothing easily identifiable. Stitch by stitch. In and out. Up
and down. Full of intention, grounded, methodical, creative. An analogy for my life, perhaps.
There are tools of the stitcher's trade: skills, attitudes, notions, that help me stitch. I am thinking in particular of a sewing basket. Made of coloured, plastic-coated cane, it is intricately woven into a rectangular basket. It reminds me that my life is an intricately woven masterpiece, made to a general pattern, but unique all the same.
This basket has a hinged lid: two small brass hinges. I think of the hinges in my life. I like to think they are compassion and gratitude but sometimes they need a little tweaking, a little oil, to keep them serviceable.
There is a clasp at the front: a sliver of bone slotted through a loop made of cane, holding the basket together. I wonder what keeps me together, to stop everything tumbling out in an inglorious mess. I
think my clasp is silence: that peace-filled pause where I can hear the divine whisper my name, where I can feel her gentle caress.
Both the lid and the base of the basket are lined with a floral-patterned chintz. This fabric has a dual purpose: to prevent the contents becoming trapped in the cane, and to provide a foundation for pockets
and cushions and storage loops. I consider how much I cover up my life, what masks I wear, to protect myself. But I also realise that these defences are there to protect the delicate balance of my life, so that I can continue to be who I am called to be. I noticed that the fabric lining is held onto the basket
with elastic threaded through a fabric casing. The lining can be repaired, replaced, altered, adapted or cleaned whenever that is needed. So can I. Brokenness. Healing. Woundedness. Forgiving.
Inside the lid is a small stuffed cushion, designed to keep pins and needles close to hand. Nearby, fabric loops have been fashioned to hold the most commonly used tools, such as scissors and an un-picker. Certainly, I need these aids in my life: things to hold me together and things to deconstruct me and re-create a better self. Tools such as contemplation, companionship, service, exercise and worship. I see a thread-guide, used to help me thread needles, when I simply cannot do it on my own. The guides in my life are always at my side: scripture, spiritual reading, creation, fellowship, music and art. They are “a
lamp to my feet, a light to my path.”
Around the inside of the base are pockets to hold spools of thread. Practical, all-purpose colours of grey, black, white, cream and brown juxtaposed with a kaleidoscope of bright, iridescent hues. Threads
hanging awry, tangling with each other, creating a technicolour nest fit for a pharoah! Seeing this gay abandon, I consider whether or not I rely on a generic, one-size-fits-all mentality when dealing with life's issues, or am I open to the the serendipitous breath of the spirit, setting aside a need for order,
compartmentalisation and control.
Lying in a muddle in the middle of the basket, are all the haberdashery notions, that 'might come in handy one day'. Items such as buttons, bias binding, iron-on patches, safety pins, hooks and eyes, and
darning yarn. Even a tube of super glue! I have read all the instructions, learnt how to use these items. A bit like life, where I learn skills, attitudes, attributes and virtues, and then they languish until I am in a pickle, trying to find a solution. Sometimes, these acquired attributes are in readiness for another stage in my life; one I may not know about or even recognise, except in hindsight. Sometimes, they are a 'quick fix', until I can commit more time and focus for a more pleasing or satisfactory result. Sometimes they become a part of who I am and how I relate to the world. Sometimes, they are never used, the
process of learning was an end to itself.
It looks like a sewing basket. It feels like a sewing basket. Its primary function is a sewing basket. But for me, it is more than that. It is a prayer-book, an uncommon prayer book, personalised just for
me. It is a self-help manual, filled with the accumulated wisdom of the ages. It is a sign-post, directing my gaze and my heart. It is a soul friend: familiar, trusted, present, ready.
Stitch by stitch … using the contents of my sewing basket and more … the divine and I create a masterpiece … beautiful, worn, loved ... my life.
Stitch by stitch, pieces of fabric are joined to create something new. Stitch by stitch, buttons are attached. Stitch by stitch, name labels make clothing easily identifiable. Stitch by stitch. In and out. Up
and down. Full of intention, grounded, methodical, creative. An analogy for my life, perhaps.
There are tools of the stitcher's trade: skills, attitudes, notions, that help me stitch. I am thinking in particular of a sewing basket. Made of coloured, plastic-coated cane, it is intricately woven into a rectangular basket. It reminds me that my life is an intricately woven masterpiece, made to a general pattern, but unique all the same.
This basket has a hinged lid: two small brass hinges. I think of the hinges in my life. I like to think they are compassion and gratitude but sometimes they need a little tweaking, a little oil, to keep them serviceable.
There is a clasp at the front: a sliver of bone slotted through a loop made of cane, holding the basket together. I wonder what keeps me together, to stop everything tumbling out in an inglorious mess. I
think my clasp is silence: that peace-filled pause where I can hear the divine whisper my name, where I can feel her gentle caress.
Both the lid and the base of the basket are lined with a floral-patterned chintz. This fabric has a dual purpose: to prevent the contents becoming trapped in the cane, and to provide a foundation for pockets
and cushions and storage loops. I consider how much I cover up my life, what masks I wear, to protect myself. But I also realise that these defences are there to protect the delicate balance of my life, so that I can continue to be who I am called to be. I noticed that the fabric lining is held onto the basket
with elastic threaded through a fabric casing. The lining can be repaired, replaced, altered, adapted or cleaned whenever that is needed. So can I. Brokenness. Healing. Woundedness. Forgiving.
Inside the lid is a small stuffed cushion, designed to keep pins and needles close to hand. Nearby, fabric loops have been fashioned to hold the most commonly used tools, such as scissors and an un-picker. Certainly, I need these aids in my life: things to hold me together and things to deconstruct me and re-create a better self. Tools such as contemplation, companionship, service, exercise and worship. I see a thread-guide, used to help me thread needles, when I simply cannot do it on my own. The guides in my life are always at my side: scripture, spiritual reading, creation, fellowship, music and art. They are “a
lamp to my feet, a light to my path.”
Around the inside of the base are pockets to hold spools of thread. Practical, all-purpose colours of grey, black, white, cream and brown juxtaposed with a kaleidoscope of bright, iridescent hues. Threads
hanging awry, tangling with each other, creating a technicolour nest fit for a pharoah! Seeing this gay abandon, I consider whether or not I rely on a generic, one-size-fits-all mentality when dealing with life's issues, or am I open to the the serendipitous breath of the spirit, setting aside a need for order,
compartmentalisation and control.
Lying in a muddle in the middle of the basket, are all the haberdashery notions, that 'might come in handy one day'. Items such as buttons, bias binding, iron-on patches, safety pins, hooks and eyes, and
darning yarn. Even a tube of super glue! I have read all the instructions, learnt how to use these items. A bit like life, where I learn skills, attitudes, attributes and virtues, and then they languish until I am in a pickle, trying to find a solution. Sometimes, these acquired attributes are in readiness for another stage in my life; one I may not know about or even recognise, except in hindsight. Sometimes, they are a 'quick fix', until I can commit more time and focus for a more pleasing or satisfactory result. Sometimes they become a part of who I am and how I relate to the world. Sometimes, they are never used, the
process of learning was an end to itself.
It looks like a sewing basket. It feels like a sewing basket. Its primary function is a sewing basket. But for me, it is more than that. It is a prayer-book, an uncommon prayer book, personalised just for
me. It is a self-help manual, filled with the accumulated wisdom of the ages. It is a sign-post, directing my gaze and my heart. It is a soul friend: familiar, trusted, present, ready.
Stitch by stitch … using the contents of my sewing basket and more … the divine and I create a masterpiece … beautiful, worn, loved ... my life.
