Sew Easy?

Have you ever had one of those moments that you want to take a mental snapshot of?  A moment that you hope you will never, ever forget . . . I've had lots of them . . . and I've probably forgotten at least half of them.  Heck, I can barely remember yesterday.  Five kids, jobs, activities, life, sleeplessness . . . I often feel like I can't hold on to all the memories I want to hold on to (which is really why I need to start keeping up with this blog again).  

Last week I had one of those moments.  It was simple and probably will seem insignificant to anyone who reads this, but to me it was special.  My parents came to visit for a long weekend.  We didn't really have anything special going on, which was one of the best parts of the weekend.  The main attraction was Jackson's basketball game Monday night.  Outside of that, it was just quality time spent with family.  It was slow and relaxing.  Kids played outside, we played games inside, enjoyed church, cooked meals, went for ice cream and just generally enjoyed slowing down a little.  

On Monday, while the kids were in school, I got out my sewing machine to have my mother look at it.  Now, if you know me and my mother, you know that she could basically be a professional seamstress and that I can basically sew a straight line . . . My mom made my wedding dress and both of my sisters' wedding dresses, she has made countless little girls' dresses, prom dresses and Halloween costumes and each one is special because of the love and talent that went into them.  I have always wished that I had learned to sew, but when you know your mom will do a professional job and if you do it, it will look like a 6th grade home economics project . . . well . . . you get the picture.  

All that being said, I did pick up a few things over the years.  I spent enough time watching my mom sew that a few things stuck.  I own a small sewing machine.  It is nothing fancy, but it gets the job done.  I've made a few curtains, some infinity scarves, a pinafore for a Halloween costume and some VERY basic Halloween costumes for my kids (they were cards . . . Aces to be exact  . . . and there wasn't much skill involved). As I said before . . . I can sew a straight line.  I LOVE to get my sewing machine out.  Every time I do, I can see my mom's hands in mine.  I watch my hands put the bobbin in, thread the machine, lower the pressor foot, and feed the material under the needle, but I don't see my hands, I see my mom's.  In those moments, I would swear that my hands look exactly like hers . . . yet somehow my finished products don't quite look like her finished products (Ha!).  I get so proud when I complete a project "successfully", because even though I know it leaves much to be desired in the quality department, it makes me feel connected to my mom.  It makes me feel like I am carrying on some kind of family tradition.  However, I am still a novice in EVERY sense of the word.  

The last few times I have gotten out my sewing machine, it has smelled like something is burning as I run it, so I decided I should get it out while my mom was here and have her look at it for me.  I've had it for 12 years or so and I have never done any maintenance on it (oops!).  My mom looked mildly astonished and amused when I told her this and she pulled out the manual and got to work.  She helped me oil it (which apparently I should be doing on a regular basis), helped me change the needle ( I also had never done that), fixed the tension on the stitches (I didn't even know this was something I should be checking) and generally just gave it a tune up and taught me a few things. . . About that whole, "I picked up a few things over the years" . . . I obviously did not pick up enough things.  Anyway, as I was sitting there watching my mom's hands and eyes move skillfully over my little machine, I just wanted to freeze time.  All I could think the whole time was that I wanted this memory to be stamped on my brain forever.  Having my mother teach me something that she is so skilled at just felt precious.  My eyes got kind of misty, though I don't think she noticed and I tried to hide it because it felt a little silly.  I almost asked my dad to take picture of the two of us as she oiled my machine . . . but again, it felt a little silly.  I wish now that I had asked.  

As I put the words to paper (so to speak), I realize that words cannot adequately describe the way I felt that afternoon.  I will never be half the seamstress that she is, but I will still always feel connected to her when I sew my straight lines and I will always the treasure memory of spending an afternoon learning basic sewing machine maintenance with a woman who means more to me than she even knows.