Trial and Error

When it comes to my life,  I can honestly say that I have definitely had more than my share of both of those......trials, and errors.   Trials, as in challenges to overcome.  Errors as in poor choices, big mistakes.

At this stage of my life at the moment,  I am teaching myself to sew by trial and error.  I definitely do read the directions and try to do as they say,  but I' ve discovered that I cannot visualize the concrete steps and achieve the desired results.  The truth of the matter is,  I am much better in the abstract than in the concrete.  I work well with symbolism and metaphor.   I can understand life and explain complex concepts with those.

So far, just about everything I have tried to sew I have had to take completely apart after I have done it wrong.  That is extremely tedious.   But I have done that, wanting to see if I can produce the desired object.  It's not that I have a need for the object, or a specific use for it.   It has mostly been about the challenge.

A friend commented to me recently that I am much more "adventurous" than she is when it comes to sewing.  I'm sure that is because we have different aims, and desires and goals.

I had this idea that I wanted a wool plaid cap. It even had a purpose in my mind---to cover up my hair when I was having a "bad hair day."

Eventually,  through trial and error, the cap came to life. It is a little too large for my head at the moment,  but I can adjust that.

My next project is a baby quilt.....thankfully, [hopefully]  something I know how to do.  At least, I have done it before.

Evelyn

Recent conversations brought to mind a dear old friend, Evelyn.   I met her in my early twenties, and she was a part of my life until she died twenty something years later.  Evelyn was larger than life.  She was a person of tremendous faith, about which she was always vocal.  She was also generous, warm, loud, fun, loving, maternal and everyone's "grandma".   Evelyn was loved by all who knew her.

In my early thirties, things were not going very well for me. My marriage fell apart and I was left alone with three small children, to fend for myself, indeed just to survive.  Evelyn (and sometimes her family) became my family.  My own family lived far far away, so I had to 'make family' wherever I could.  Mostly, my family was 'the church'.  But for quite a while, Evelyn was my friend, my confidant, my support system, even my babysitter occasionally.

We did come from different faith traditions, however.  Evelyn was a die-hard Baptist, who spoke that specific language of faith.  By that I mean that she had one question of everyone she encountered:  Have you been saved?  

That's never been my favorite question.   I had always grown up (Wesleyan)  believing that you were saved by your baptism, your confirmation, your confession,  your beliefs,  your practices.   To Evelyn, it was all about that one moment of conversion.  Everyone was supposed to be able to name the time and the moment and the place when they were born again.

My tendency is to think that we are continually 'born again'.   At any rate,  thinking of this dear old friend gave me a vision, which I cherish.  In a clear mental picture,  I saw that Evelyn was on my committee, my welcoming committee---the one that greets you and embraces you and  ushers you over to the other realm.   I'm confident that if there is anyone who would be there on my welcoming committee, it is Evelyn.

And that really gives me something to look forward to!

Contrasting Fabric

I am in the process of teaching myself to sew.  My oldest daughter Brenda always shakes her head in disbelief whenever I produce something  (little purses for the girls).   She's never known me to sew before.  And the truth is,  I haven't very much.  I sewed a bit as a youth on my mother's sewing machine,  but never really enjoyed it or got the knack of it.  I was way too impatient.  (still am a bit).

With every project, I discover my many limitations.  The most significant one is---I cannot follow directions very well.  (nothing new there).  I cannot really read and interpret a pattern. (serious deficiency).  I don't know how to do most things at all.  All my sewing projects end up being trial and error.  Once in a while, it turns out to be mostly error.

But I am learning.  I think that is the point.  Maybe some day I'll be a master at it.  Right now, I am a novice.  I chose not to do quilting because it seemed so tedious with all those small pieces of fabric.  Or maybe it was the geometry and math that intimidated me.  I haven't found anything that is not tedious.

Am I enjoying it?  Well, it is kind of like solving a crossword puzzle.  I struggle and struggle over it,  make mistakes, figure out one thing, which leads to figuring out another.  The enjoyment comes more from solving a puzzle than from taking great pride in my product.

But for posterity,  here is a picture of my purse of contrasting fabrics.

Sermon Response

At lunch today with my group of clergy friends, Cath said to the group,  "Yesterday, I heard a most interesting worldview, one I have never heard before."   My heart sank.  I knew she was going to say something about my sermon.  I had preached the day before at Fayetteville, and she had been there.   That she would bring it up at the lunch table among friends gave me trepidation. Should I jump in immediately, and stop any conversation before it got started?  After all,  the rest of the women did not know that I was the one she was talking about!

Cath went on to mention this new theological idea she had learned from the preacher's sermon, and she then said what it was.  The first, immediate response from several was,  "I think that is biblical."  (I was so relieved).  This theory is indeed biblical, in that it happened several times in the bible.  But my theological point took it another step, and made some inferences about the implications.    I did jump in soon into the conversation, so that none of us would be embarrassed (or hurt perhaps) when everyone realized that it was me Cath was talking about.   I did take it as a huge compliment that my sermon gave her pause to consider a theological point she had never considered before.  Cath herself is clergy;  her husband is also, and was a district superintendent.  Cath has heard more sermons than most people in several lifetimes.  It was also a compliment that she would still be thinking about it the next day!

My sermons always do seem to get many positive comments.  I don't want to blow my own horn here,  but there was one remark after the service from a nice lady that I thought was priceless.  She came up to me, and took my hand and said,  "Nancy,  when you were here, and we heard your sermons every week,  we just didn't realize how powerful they always are."    

I thought that was classic, and so typically human.  We have a tendency not to really appreciate what we have, until after it is gone.  

Worst Brownies

We often go to the Thursday night dinner and program at church.  Lately, because of food issues,  I've opted to go to the program, but not the potluck. Gerry enjoys going to the dinner, so he was in the process of making brownies.   Somewhere in that process, we discovered that the oven was not heating up properly.  It took fifteen minutes for it to get up to 110 degrees, so that did not look very promising.  Further examination revealed that the broiler burner at the top of the stove was working, but the bottom element at the bottom was producing no heat.  So we turned on the broiler to see if we could cook the brownies that way.   Pretty soon, I smelled something burning and saw right away that the top of the brownies were burned to a crisp, so I turned the oven off.

Then we got the bright idea of cooking them in the microwave.  I never dreamed that Gerry would want to take them to the dinner, but he did. They were grim!  I did insist that he stop by the store for ice cream on the way there.  My deepest apologies to anyone who might have picked up one of the world's absolutely worst brownies!  (Clearly, not many people did.  The word probably got out quickly!  Most of them came back home, thankfully).  Of course, Gerry did not get to make an announcement that the problem was the stove!

Despite the fact that they were truly awful, my husband who has a sweet tooth,  ate every one over the next two days!

After that, he took the stove apart and fixed the oven all by himself!  My hero.

Irish Harp

We attended an interesting program this evening featuring a harpist and author named,  Linda Kaiser, who has written a biography entitled Pulling Strings:  The Legacy of Melville A. Clark

It was interesting to hear the stories she told and view the memorabilia she has collected.  There was a picture of the four Clark children taken in 1892, all standing and playing the harps of that era.

The harp pictured is a small Irish Harp, made by Clark.  (to be portable and easier for small people to play!) This is the Clark of Clark Music in Syracuse.  I've been in the contemporary Clark Music store, and in fact, we bought our beautiful piano there.   But I was unaware of Clark's very interesting history.

Here is a review of the book:

Beginning with an account of Clark’s musical family, Kaiser chronicles the founding in 1859 of the Clark Music Company, of which Melville Clark became president in 1919. Originally just a tinkers shed, the business ultimately moved into a six-story building in the center of Syracuse. The music company celebrates its 150th anniversary in 2010. Clark also combined his talents as a gifted musician and astute entrepreneur to start the first Syracuse Symphony Orchestra.



I would add that the first performance of the Orchestra packed in three thousands folks, and turned away five hundred more.  It was the 21st day of January.   It must have been very cold!   But central New York natives are hale and hearty!  Syracuse has never had a shortage of talented musicians.

Re-Purpose

    Gerry had a wool blazer with holes in the elbows.   He held it up    and asked if I might have any use for the fabric.  I know he didn't have the heart to throw it out.    So I took it, and put it in my scrap fabric basket in the sewing room.   Then, I pondered and pondered how I might put it to good use.  I know I even worked on this project in my sleep, as it involved some parts and some skills I have not previously used.

    So this is my little winter bag, fully lined.  The front pocket is also fully lined.   The fabric for the strap came from the sleeve of the jacket. It is really a little work of art  (at least for someone with no experience!!).   I often do not like to take my large purse in with me when I go places.  I prefer something smaller, which might hold my keys, my cell phone, a tube of lipstick, and another item or so.   I am very pleased with this re-purposed wool tweed blazer!

     If I am going to work at developing some skills,  it will probably be in the area of purses and hats.  And it will be slowly.  I need to acquire patterns, tools, accessories, hooks, snaps, fabric, etc.   Since I'm not much of an "acquirer"  that will take me some time.  For the moment,  it is a thought in my head.  

As far as sewing goes, I've made a little bit of everything in the last nine months, since I got my sewing machine for Christmas last year.  It wasn't long before Gerry built me a sewing room.   Since I have not been inclined toward quilting, I haven't settled into a particular medium.  Now I think perhaps I may have happened upon something I might enjoy.