Ripping the Seams

I have recently picked up sewing as a hobby. Well, it is not completely a hobby, in that it is not just for fun. I have made dresses for the girls for our family vacation in two weeks. I saw some girls at church in dresses and thought, "I can do that." Why I thought that, I have no idea. It has been years since I have even touched a sewing machine. 

Then I was on my way to a Dollar Tree when I saw that Hancock's Fabrics was having a sale. I went in and found all I was hoping to find and more. I even found a pattern, which turned out to be more complicated than the dresses I saw at church, but still "easy." I asked a friend if I could borrow her sewing machine. Since she teaches home economics, she had access to a machine that the school was actually giving away. With my material and my machine, I sat down to make the dresses. Unfortunately, reading the pattern was like trying to read Greek, so I set out to figure it out on my own. 

When I was growing up, I would design clothes by drawing or wrapping scraps of fabric around my Barbies. Now, actually trying to put these pieces of fabric together was more challenging. I knew how I wanted to put them together, but I did not do them in the best order on Mariama's dresses. Sometimes I had pieces sewn together already that needed ruffles. I wished I had done them differently. I learned from my mistakes and did better on Lydia-Ann's. 

My most trusted tool during this time was my seam ripper. When the material was wrinkled underneath, I ripped the seam. When I sewed it higher than I wanted, I ripped the seam. When I caught the hem of the dress in the ruffle attachment, I ripped the seam. When things did not look quite right, I ripped the seam and started again. Now the dresses are done. They still are not perfect. There are some flaws. 

The dresses are a reflection of me. There have been times that I really messed up,and God had to rip my seams. My "seams" are better than they were, but I still have flaws. Just like I did not want to give up on those dresses, thankfully, God does not give up on me. 

This last week and a half since my clear PETscan and status of remission, I should have been rejoicing. However, an element of survivor guilt has crept in. I think of my friend, who is watching her mother suffer from brain tumors that began with breast cancer.  I think of the family of my husband's good friend, who just passed away recently from colon cancer. I think of the young lady at church who is planning her wedding without her mother, who passed away a few months ago from breast cancer. I think of the sweet family who has been watching their little boy fight cancer for the last several years and just received some very hard news.  I think of the man at church raising two girls alone, because his wife passed away from cancer a year and a half ago.  I have been so encouraged throughout this last year by other survivors, but now I feel guilty being one.  

The oldest daughter of the man raising two girls has encouraged me that God is not done with me yet. I pray that it is for ministry still left to be done, but I am sure that it is true in the work needed to be done within me. I am still in need of refining and need the Holy Spirit daily. I still have some seams to be ripped and resewn.  God is making something beautiful of this mess called me.