It is hard to encapsulate a mother’s love. It is just an ingrained knowledge that my Mom loves me; that she always has and always will.
I could cite numerous examples great and small that affirm this proclamation
but it would take hours, fill pages upon pages and still never truly depict
what my Mother’s love means to me. So, I shall just choose one common thread. It
is a thread which passes through infancy until now and yards of fabric lie
between.
Handy with a needle and thread, my Mom has been whipping
handmade creations as long as I can remember. She has informed me that she made
her own receiving blankets when I was only a baby and I remember some miniature
curtains and pillows that were part of the dollhouse she created for me when I
was a young child.
One of the elementary schools I attended only went up to
fifth grade, so upon completion of said grade there was a graduation ceremony
of sorts. It was a big deal to a ten year old and it must have been to my
family as well. Mommy sewed me a brand new dress to wear to the ceremony. The
top portion was made of lightweight denim with buttons while the high-waisted skirt
was made from a blue checked fabric with sunflowers.
As I grew older I looked back fondly on this memory and eagerly
asked my Mom if she would sew me another special dress, this time for my eighth
grade “recognition night”. I made a sketch of what I would like the dress to
look like, picked out a shiny pink material and a sheer, pink fabric for the
top layer. Again, my Mom lovingly pieced the layers of fabric together to
create a shimmery, pink dress. While the other girls in my class wore prom
dresses purchased from boutiques and retail stores, I wore with pride the dress
made by the hands of my dear Mother.
I attended a small, Christian, high school my sophomore
year. All high school students were invited to prom because of the tiny class
sizes. When I a young man invited me to accompany him to the dance I was
certain I wanted a unique dress. It was a lot of hard work but my Mom obliged
me and once again went shopping with me for a pattern and fabric. No awkward encounters
with girls wearing the same dress for me!
Senior year swiftly ended up on my doorstep but we decided
this time around a graduation dress would not be worth the efforts, seeing as
whatever I wore would be hidden underneath my gaudy, red cap and gown. Instead,
I was asked by another gentleman to the senior prom. It only made sense to have
another custom-dress made. I scanned the teen prom magazines until I found a
style I liked and then found the closest approximation amongst the dress
patterns at Wal-Mart. It was truly a unique dress and while my tastes have
changed since, I certainly appreciated the faithful seamstress I had in my
Mother.
A year after graduation, the young man who I had attended our
senior prom with asked me to marry him.
Spools of thread in blues, pinks and purples over the years
had passed through my Mom’s sewing machine. Bolts of butterfly cloth and shimmering
blue fabric had been plucked from the store shelves, yards of fabric measured
and taken home to be transformed. I had stood as a model, sometimes enduring a
pin prick or two, while my Mom carefully fitted each dress to my petite frame. Save
the first dress, each hung in my closet still, a collection of memories and a
testament to my Mom’s love. It is no surprise that there was no one else I
would rather make my wedding dress than my Mother.
With a whirlwind, two-month engagement, my Mom had little
time to whip something up. A trip to David’s Bridal to try on different styles
almost proved fruitful when I found a dress that was almost perfect. However,
given its price and the additional costs to hem the dress, I was not sold.
Besides, to hem the dress they would have had to remove the lovely lace
detailing. God pointed me to the perfect dress though.
Mom and I went to the nearby fabric store on a whim, thumbed
through the patterns and found the exact style I had fallen in love with at
David’s Bridal. I then picked out beading, sequins and lace. For weeks I stood
still for fittings while my Mom painstakingly pieced together my wedding dress.
She even made a crinoline skirt to go underneath so my dress poofed out. And to
top it all off she sewed lace cut-outs to the dress and then hand-sewed sequins
to the lace and to the sequins tiny, iridescent beads. These same beads were also
carefully glued to my veil.
I beam with joy when I see my wedding pictures now and
recall the efforts that went into making the beautiful white gown.
Some parents fork out hundreds of dollars for their
daughters’ prom dress and thousands for the wedding gown. Fabric, zippers,
buttons, boning, lace and other detailing add up in cost but the end result
when it is made by someone you love is invaluable. To me the perfect dress was
never draped over a mannequin in a specialty shop or suspended from a hanger in
a wedding boutique. I may have felt like a princess at David’s Bridal, standing
atop a pedestal in a flowing, white dress but I would rather feel loved.
Each strand of thread that was woven through cloth over the
years by my Mother has created a tapestry of love that while not visibly
tangible is certainly tangible to the heart. She has been there for all of the
important milestones in my life and having these handmade treasures to remember
a handful of them by means the world to me. Every button attached by hand,
every up and down motion of the needle says to me “I love you”.
My husband I are expecting our first child next month and
you can bet that my Mom has already stepped right into her role as “Grandma”.
She is still weaving that tapestry and I am incredibly grateful that my
daughter will now be a part of this. Many of the items for her nursery have
been hand-sewn by my Mom. It already feels like home seeing her familiar
handiwork throughout the room.
Again, there are many more examples of how I have been shown
love by my Mother but this is something I felt gave even the tiniest glimpse of
how special my Mom is. I am not sure if I will ever have a knack for sewing but
if there is anyone who can teach me, it would be my Mom. Even if I never acquire
a skill for running needle and thread through cloth, I have already learned
from my Mom that you make the most of the talents God has given you. Perhaps I
will be able to do something else for my daughter. Whatever God chooses to allow
to shine through me in my child’s life, I know that I have a wonderful example
in my Mom.
Thank you, Mom, for not only being a seamstress in the realm
of bobbins and pin cushions but also in life: always able to patch up a rough
hole, rip out a seam or stitch up a tear. Life has many hills and valleys but
you did your best to guide my brother and me through, one stitch at a time,
knowing that our lives were ultimately a part of a greater canvas, resting in
God’s hands.
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