A Threadbare Palantir

I heard this week that (of all things) Liberty University has a women’s hockey team. Yes, poodles, **that** Liberty University. What will the Baptists think of next? In fact, one of the young women that I know is thinking of attending Liberty so that she can play on their hockey team. Her quote? “Yeah, I don’t go to church much, but I wanna play hockey.” I said, “Well, you’ll be going to church AND playing hockey if you go to Liberty.” She shrugged and indicated that wouldn’t be a big deal. Alrighty then. Hockey really can be a mission field.

I’ve been reunited with a long-time and dear friend. We first met about sixteen years ago or maybe more. I can’t remember now. I know I’ve known her since before her daughter who will be sixteen in July. Our girls are six months apart and played together from the moment they could play. They were practically inseparable until they were about 9 or 10. And then we fell apart. Nothing major happened. There was no falling out. We just sort of drifted. Life happened. Our family left the church and it was hard.

Recently both girls joined Facebook and found each other there. They started chatting away again. Then they made arrangements to meet up at a homeschool event one Friday morning. My friend came too. What a joy it was to see her sparkly eyes again; to talk and laugh and cry with her again. The girls are talking and laughing together again just like old times too. Although … they are all grown up now and we must remember that [rolls eyes].

I found out that their family left the church as well. Different circumstances, similar reasons … pastor had developed hearing loss. Or perhaps a case of arrogance. Whatever the case may be, I was struck by the author of “Pastoralia” who quoted from Luke 3 “Produce fruit in keeping with repentance.”

Well, I wanted to know more, so I went to read more from Luke 3 and this is what I found:

John said to the crowds coming out to be baptized by him, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath? Produce fruit in keeping with repentance. And do not begin to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our father.’ For I tell you that out of these stones God can raise up children for Abraham. The axe is already at the root of the trees, and every tree that does not produce good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire.”

“What should we do then?” the crowd asked.

John answered, “The man with two tunics should share with him who has none, and the one who has food should do the same.”

Tax collectors also came to be baptized. “Teacher,” they asked, “what should we do?”

“Don’t collect any more than you are required to,” he told them. Then some soldiers asked him, “And what should we do?”

He replied, “Don’t extort money and don’t accuse people falsely—be content with your pay.”
(Luke 3:7-13)

Produce fruit in keeping with repentance - what is that? It’s not pride, John warns. Share, collect only what is due, and be honest and content.  Ultimately, that was why we had both left that church.  Too many of those who were there were proud of their father Abraham and no one was willing to share their spare tunics.  There was no fruit in keeping with repentance.

She told me about the church they go to now and I was astonished.  It’s the local Baptist church.  Large and imposing.  But she gets to spend two nights a week teaching English as a second language (the county we live in has one of the largest Hispanic communities on the East Coast).  And she works in their food pantry.  As she said, “Now when someone comes to me asking for something to eat or something to wear, I don’t have to tell them no.  I can open the door and smile.”

And the youth group that her daughter is part of?  Well, they go into the low rent townhouse neighborhood that our former church shunned (right across the street) to hand out food, make friends and meet needs.

I’m thinkin’ what is up with the Baptists?  First a hockey team, now this?  I may end up back in church after all.

Filed under: Gellies, Livin' the missional life by threadbaresonja

Monday evening I attended an inaugural ball. I wore a gown made with the help of a friend. You can read more about why I’m insane and chose to make a formal evening gown out of silk in less than a week at my home blog. But that’s not the point of this post. And, yes, I am insane.

Here is a photo of me and LightHusband (I’m wearing the dress and we’re on our way to the Ball):

Dressed & Ready

BlazingEwe (my BFF) and I made that gown in about three days.  Not only did we make it, but it’s a mash-up of two patterns.  And we didn’t have either pattern in the correct size, so we had to redraft both in addition to putting them together.  Yes, it was a high pressure situation.  We left for the ball at approximately 4:30 p.m. and we finished the dress at 2 p.m.  On the same day.  Yes, I cried several times.  Yes, I said I wasn’t going at least twice.  No, I was not kind or gracious when I said it.  But I never threw anything.  So I get one point for that.  Just one.

For the most part I made it on my trusty sewing machine; my Bernina Virtuosa 153QE (that’s Quilter’s Edition).  But my dress is made from dupioni silk; a fabric notorious for the way it ravels and shreds after it’s been cut.  So the seams had to be finished.  As you can see there are flounces along the bottom.  They are made from silk organza and needed a handkerchief hem.  Have you ever tried to fold and press silk organza into 1/8″ folds twice over?  On a curve?  I’ll never, ever try it again.  The trials of Sisyphus come to mind.  I sort of had one (out of six) done after about two hours of fiddling with it and a hot steam iron.  I still had to sew this hem down and it wasn’t nearly prepared enough.  It was Saturday afternoon and I’m thinking, “Alright … just the [insert several choice curse words here] flounces will take 12 hours to put a hem on them and then we’ll be able to start on the dress.  That’s soooo not going to work.”  I think that might have lead to crying jag number two and rant number one.  But right then TallCoolWoman called and asked how things were going.  I couldn’t talk, but BlazingEwe could and she described the scene.  TallCoolWoman had just the solution.  Her serger!

A serger is the machine that finishes seams in a manner like you find on manufactured clothing.  It will also create a handkerchief hem on organza without any pressing involved!  So those flounces?  They took 45 minutes total, plus 15 minutes for a lesson and practice.  One hour versus 12.  Yeah, baby!!  Then she loaned it to us so that we could finish all the seams on the gown.  That process took about a minute per seam, rather than 5 - 10 minutes per seam.  I am sold.  Now, I “need” a serger.

I have resisted these for years.  Turned my nose up at them.  There was no reason for a serger in my world.  They couldn’t do anything my trusty sewing machine couldn’t do.  But, now?  Now I’m sold.  What just happened here?

Here’s the interesting thing.  I have another acquaintance who has extolled the virtues of these machines to me for years.  She has come right out and told me that I need to have one.  Wondered openly why I won’t get one.  Used one in my presence several times in attempts to show me how wonderful they are.   She made excellent arguments.  Told me all the right things.  Gave me great reasons for trying one and needing one.  But all her efforts were in vain; I was never even tempted.  Mostly because her case was too good and too perfect.  I saw nothing in it that was appealing or inviting.

TallCoolWoman on the other never gave me one argument.  Not one.  She simply extended an invitation during a moment of need.  And offered an open hand up when I needed it.  Now I’m looking for sergers, finding prices and learning everything I can about them.

I’ve been thinking in the week or so since about this … and about how we can have the best argument in the world, but it’s an open hand and a winsome invitation that are more likely gain a hearing.

Filed under: Gellies, Livin' the missional life by threadbaresonja