Tag: personal development

#21 – Sewing When I Lost the Love For It

A few weeks ago I shared part one of my Spring/Summer Collection for 2023. It’s not quite a capsule wardrobe, because I think I made too many pieces for it to count as a capsule but I used the capsule/collection philosophy. By this I mean, making a selection of clothing items with the intention of mixing and matching with the other created pieces and existing items in my wardrobe. Basically one complete thought. I chose to sew the new items instead of buying them for the experience and control over the aesthetic and silhouette I saw in my head.

This was different than my Fall/Winter Collection for 2022 of which I kept one piece, the rest being presents for family and friends. With that collection, I intended to shower love and tailoring on those who have encouraged me to pursue my dream of sewing. I found it easier to stay motivated in crafting the pieces I was giving away. The perfectionist in me was wrapped in ambition and drive to showcase the best possible garment. If I am doing something for myself though, the timetable gets a little scattered.

Stuck in My Head

I began the year 2023 with some setbacks, an injury to my hand, tendonitis in my fingers, my sewing machine had a gremlin in the tensioner, and I had a blow to my confidence.

Two members of my dysfunctional family accepted their gifts with some digs to my construction and design, requesting a whole new item at my cost. I felt like a failure. If my loved ones wouldn’t accept my designs, why should I bother chasing this fashion design dream? Wouldn’t I just end up in tears again? I sat with my fabric stash for a month, reviling it, wishing it would wander off in the night. Then I remembered the resources that were spent purchasing the fabric to make a summer & spring wardrobe. Yeah, I had to keep sewing. I was going to be extremely wasteful not to.

Armed with the encouragement of my husband and my best friend, they got me back in the design frame of mind. With it being the end of February, the Western Pennsylvania weather decided it was time to ride a roller coaster of seasons – one day spring, one day summer, next day winter. Winter for a week, summer for a week, and so forth. This truly lit a fire under me because I had donated or repurposed all the shorts that didn’t fit me for the opportunity to design my own. I budgeted for fabric not shopping – it was time to stop wallowing and figure out how to design some dang shorts!

Scrap Fabric to Shorts

These were the first pair, out of scrap material from the Antrim Coat. I figured out the cut lines for the seat and leg holes from The Essentials Club on Youtube, adapting my waistband for a drawstring of a shoelace. They are a little big but I love how floaty the leg openings are!

New Found Confidence in the Skill, not the Audience

I learned that sometimes the best way to bounce back from discouragement is to keep moving forward. I sewed through it, with the right people behind me. I determined why I was sewing – not to find approval from two family members that can be fickle but instead to finish what I started. Commitment to the craft, and commitment to learning. Actually being my own customer helped me define what I like and who I want to be. Who I want to be is not a business owner with an atelier or a designer that is unconnected to hard work. Starting a shop, which was my goal in 2023, is now a thing of the past.

Sharing my clothes as gifts was a fun idea, but selling is not where I feel called to be right now. Sewing every day, although it was fun before Christmas, wrecks my shoulders and back. I actually hate it and don’t want to do it. It changed my perspective on what being a sewist and fashion designer can mean, but more on that later.

Anyways, my point is, sometimes a closed door is a waypoint for a better thing on the horizon. A setback is not always a bad thing. They reveal what we are and who we want to be. I think the important thing is to remain teachable and ready for the twists to become a better version of ourselves.

Breakfast Table Wisdom

Q: Do you have a quote you live your life by or think of often?

A: PROVERBS 3:5-6

At the breakfast table, on my placemat next to a bowl of cereal and a glass of juice, Papa would leave half a banana. I’m not sure when this tradition started but each morning, he would split a banana with me. He was always willing to share anything he had with me, including wisdom.

By the time I wandered downstairs, sleepy-eyed and wishing it was still night, my chipper, morning-person Papa would be done with his breakfast and reading the paper. Waiting for me. Never waiting in impatience, waiting in such a warm and mentoring way. He wanted to know what was on my mind, was there a test at school that day to pray for or an event with friends that I was looking forward to? He took the job of raising me, as a substitute dad very seriously.

Around that breakfast table, Papa would prepare me for the day ahead not just with food but with cultivating a wise mindset. Before he ate breakfast, while I was still sleeping, he and Grandma would do their morning Bible study together. It was a ritual that as an adult my husband and I try to emulate. It was from this time with the Lord that I understand how Papa had so much wisdom to pour into me at those breakfast chats.

Lean Not, On Your Own Understanding

A verse that has become my favorite, a nugget of wisdom that I seek to live by, is Proverbs 3:5-6. It was a verse that came up often at those morning meals, so much so that I memorized the verses simply by hearing this piece of wisdom over and over throughout the years.

As a child, I absorbed it but did not understand it. As a teen I scoffed at it, in college I ignored it, and as a floundering young adult, I clung to it.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him and He will make your paths straight.” Proverbs 3:5-6 NIV

I thought it was just a bunch of rules, another way to feel like I had no agency in my life and so as a hubris-filled teen I didn’t want to submit my way to God’s way. “I am the master of my fate,  I am the captain of my soul.” William Earnest Henley writes in his poem, Invictus. As young people, I think we are so keen to believe the world stretches out before us. We are told that by media, secular books, and movies. I think we believe it because it makes us feel powerful and less overwhelmed by the future that awaits us. Because we don’t know the future, we can only guess what tomorrow will bring. We are not in control at all. And when the world knocks you down, and changes the path you chose to a path that fails you, being the master of your fate rings hollow.

The illusion of being in control makes you realize how small you really are. The individualistic culture of the United States sells you a false promise of control that living for yourself and pursuing what’s best for you above all will bring you ultimate happiness. It directly contradicts what Papa was teaching me with our morning chats, and pulled me into a path that was not straight, but twisty and shadowed. As a chronic overthinker, Proverbs 3:5-6 didn’t appear to me as the safer option because in its message it challenges you to drop your worries at the feet of the Lord and rely on Him to give you directions on where you should go.

As an overthinker, the process calms me down not the result, thinking and obsessing about what to do next keeps my mind busy, and so I misbelieve this is the way to peace. When indeed, as someone who now strives to live according to Proverbs 3:5-6, the cycle of overthinking is just a distraction. It is not peaceful or profitable.

Don’t Try to Figure Everything Out

What has made me feel strong in those weak moments has surprisingly enough been submitting to the Lord and not leaning on my own understanding; because I learned over a string of mistakes that my understanding is flawed. I’ve learned that I play a short game while God is playing the long one. He is playing chess while I’m playing checkers. I simply cannot perceive all He has in store for me. And unless I get out of God’s way and let Him lead me, I’m going to miss out on His will and His process, like being at peace in the middle of uncertainty.

My grandma, like me, was an overthinker, at times a bit of a control freak like myself. She struggled with submitting her concerns and desires to God, but when should tell me about her struggles she would bring up Proverbs 3:5-6 and I believe she was reminding me as much as she was reminding herself. Papa was a worrier, which I struggle with. I see now that He was probably passing this verse down to me because He could see my penchant to worry and wanted to give me a tool to thrive when worry washed over me.

At the time, I thought He was just putting a challenge in front of me, but now I see he was instilling godly wisdom around that breakfast table. I see now that as much as Proverbs 3:5-6 was for being brought up for me at those breakfast chats, it was a reminder for Grandma and Papa too. When the time came to learn how to keep living without Papa, Grandma and I clung to Proverbs 3:5-6. I even have a few voicemails from her reminding herself and myself not to try to figure everything out but to lean on the Lord for guidance.

Now that she is gone too, I have wondered who is going to remind me? When I am feeling stuck, wishing I could ask either Papa or Grandma for advice, I have worried about who will keep me directed on the right path in those key moments? Ironically enough, I am forgetting who said those words of Proverbs 3:5-6 in the first place. The Lord. And the Lord has reminded me when I am stuck. He replays His words of wisdom in my mind. Because He is such a comforting and loving God He reminds me in such a dear way. I hear Papa’s wisdom at the breakfast table, and Grandma’s reminders when it gets tough, the memories of their voices saying to rely on the Lord for He will make your paths straight.

This is why I live by this quote. What quote do you live by? Did a mentor instill in you, wisdom that you still rely on today? Have you had the chance to mentor and pass wisdom down to others?

Kindness in the Culture

I felt challenged by the Lord in 2023 to get to know the unknown parts of His word. The sections of the Bible make us say, “Is that a book of the Bible?” At least in North America, the minor prophets of the Old Testament, are a group that are skipped over for sermons. You don’t get fed from this book, instead, sermons seem to focus on the “seeker-friendly” sections of the Bible, the gospels, and some New Testament epistles for good measure.

I don’t mean to sound cynical but I went to a Christian school, and a Christian college, and have been in the church for most of my life – that’s a lot of opportunity to have learned about the entire Bible, but the whole book wasn’t taught. This frustrates me. I don’t feel properly prepared for a complete reading of the Bible, and I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels this way. Which posed a problem when I decided to read Obadiah, mainly what does this book mean? What does this story refer to? And who is Edom?!

Thankfully resources like the Bible Project exist! They have a terrific guide to the Book of Obadiah along with a video summary that provided historical context that helped me understand why this book matters. Here’s what God revealed to me through my reading and study of the book.

In short, Obadiah addresses a shameful part of human behavior, yet it is something we have all experienced – when a prideful person hurts someone who is struggling, because the proud person believes they are better than the struggling person, and therefore takes advantage of that person for their own gain. Exploiting your opponent’s weakness, in strategic terms. In a social and economic context, this would be corruption and discrimination being used to exploit a group of people who have been kept from opportunities. In a personal context, hurting your neighbor instead of helping them or reveling in the pain of others because you believe you are better than them. Obadiah applies to life!

The book of Obadiah says a lot in just twenty-one verses. It is full of family history and dysfunction! The people of Judah and the people of Edom share a common relative – Isaac, the son of Abraham and Sarah. For this story, you have to go all the way back to Genesis 25-27. Isaac and Rebekah had two sons, Jacob and Esau. There is major sibling rivalry, ending in bitterness, family dysfunction and Jacob being favored over Esau because Esau traded his birthright blessing for a bowl of soup. Esau’s anger towards Jacob does not end there. Jacob becomes the nation of Israel and Esau’s descendants become the nation of Edom, their bitterness for each other carries on through generations.

Hundreds of years later, the Israelites are conquered by Assyria and Babylon. Israel the Northern Kingdom is destroyed and taken into exile by Assyria, and Judah the Southern Kingdom is conquered by Babylon and taken into exile. When Babylon comes to conquer Judah, Edom in their resentment for Judah sees this as a time to celebrate the destruction of their brother and gets a few punches in for themselves.

While Judah is being rampaged and the people are being killed or carried off in chains, the people of Edom decided to get a little gloating in. They come to the land of Judah and do some pillaging of their own, they celebrate the destruction and even take advantage of Judah’s refugees, going so far as to kill them.

Not a pretty legacy for Edom, but before we judge, how often have we as humans celebrated someone else’s misfortunes? Especially in the age of social media, how easy is it to join the hater bandwagon? I mean it’s just a comment, right? It’s anonymous, it doesn’t mean anything, it’s not hurting anyone – or is it? What about in our day-to-day lives? I’ve been jealous, and guilty of finding joy in the struggle of others when I believe they have wronged me. It’s human nature and is so easy to do. Even easy to hide from others because if it is an internal thought, who is going to know? Obadiah reminds us that God does see it and He does know.

I thought about this today as I learned about the Tik-Tok “baseball mean girls” trend that involves photo bombing a person taking a selfie at a baseball game so that you are flipping them off in the background. It’s just plain rude and reminds me of what I read in Obadiah. I think we could make a huge difference in our culture with simple actions like pausing to think through our actions. Is flipping someone off in the background of a photo a kind thing to do? Obviously no. Is there a better way to handle yourself? Yes. But do we all make the right choices all the time, no we do not and we take jokes too far. We hurt people.

But do not gloat over the day of your brother
    in the day of his misfortune;
do not rejoice over the people of Judah
    in the day of their ruin;
do not boast
    in the day of distress.
Do not enter the gate of my people
    in the day of their calamity;
do not gloat over his disaster
    in the day of his calamity;
do not loot his wealth
    in the day of his calamity.
 Do not stand at the crossroads
    to cut off his fugitives;
do not hand over his survivors
    in the day of distress.

Obadiah 12-14 ESV

So, what do we do with that? I mean I feel guilty for the personal ways I have hurt people. Even worse I have held onto grudges. I am ashamed to see myself in the reflection of Edom. In verse 15, the tone changes from Obadiah referencing Edom to all nations, “For the day of the Lord is near upon all the nations. As you have done, it shall be done to you; your deeds shall return on your own head.” Yikes! That is scary to think about. I don’t want people to treat me the way I have treated them. I used to have a bad temper, and it hurt people. Feeling the return on that would be horrible. So, how do you move forward without fear or guilt?

What I have found the most peace in is asking God for forgiveness and changing my attitude, especially in the ways I handle grudges. Seek kindness. Be different than the aggression that you see in the world, and forgive others who fail at keeping their bad behavior in check. I am currently on a journey to learning how to forgive – it is not easy. All of it is God, I just have to ask for His help to show me. It can sometimes feel unnatural to our human minds to forgive, but it is freeing. Oh so freeing.

To unpack verse 15 a bit more, I found hope in reading this verse. I thought about all the evil in this world. The ways people are taken advantage of systematically. I thought about racism, human trafficking, colonialism, genocide, dictators, and censorship. In this world of AI and big brother surveillance, big tech companies seem like behemoths above the law. Yet it all comes crashing down when you read verse 15. God sees it. God knows what is happening in the shadows and His justice will hold it accountable in His time. Evil deeds will not slip through the cracks forever.

The more I read the backstory of Obadiah, the more I wondered what would happen if the whole Bible was being taught? I considered the ways in which the church has allowed itself to be corrupted by the culture and what would happen if the health and wealth gospel was laid to rest and the wisdom of these unknown books like Obadiah colored our understanding of Christianity instead of prosperity. It is something to think about.

If you made it this far, thank you for allowing me to share what God revealed to me through my study of Obadiah. I hope you have a lovely day. ❤

#20 – A Beethoven Milestone

When I moved to coastal Georgia, it was a big, unknown kind of step. New family, new culture, new job description, new kind of humidity I’d only heard of. It was disorienting at times, exhilarating at others. Yet it made me perceive what really made me feel at home. I realized it was a piano. No really, a piano.

Life of a Piano Teacher’s Kid

When I was very little my mom and I moved in with my grandparents, at the time my grandma was a full-time piano teacher. My grandma’s living room had not one but two pianos – an upright piano and a grand piano. Due to wear and tear, the two consolidated down to one new grand piano that filled the house with music from 6:00 am to 6:00 pm during the week. My breakfast routine included the broken melodies of piano lessons and a bowl of cereal. At the time, I would grow tired of the piano music, but as an adult, I look back on those days with fondness.

Something that I think is interesting, is that before I left for Georgia, my grandma gave me my old piano lesson books that she kept from my failed lessons in 2nd grade. I thought that was really sweet, and I think a bit of comfort from the Lord because I did not anticipate how hard homesickness was going to hit 6 weeks into my new life. I was all settled into a nice apartment and little community, a new church, and a new side of the family to hang out with, yet bam I was thrown into this wave of sadness.

I felt like part of me was missing. For some reason, those piano lessons came to my mind and, all I wanted was to hear the piano music again.

I would say before this point I appreciated classical music but it wasn’t a regular rotation within my Spotify profile, it then became my comfort music with Claire Hwangci’s Rachmaninoff Preludes album being one of my favorites. My grandma used to play Rachmaninoff, Chopin, Brahms, and Beethoven. Moonlight Sonata was one of her favorites. Since then I’ve been determined to learn piano, one day. The problem was the keyboard I had access to was pretty busted, with a whole octave not registering noise when I tried to play.

Grandma encouraged me to keep going even if my keyboard was not great, she was thrilled that I felt the call back to music lessons.

We eventually moved back to Pennsylvania, and as the ebb and flow of my time changed, I had a lot more time to practice in my new routine. The problem was I lacked discipline and was a lazy student. Instead of seeking to learn musical theory again, I went to my Pinterest and YouTube feed, to find quick learning techniques. Watered down piano guides and on Pinterest, I literally found pins that were just the notes in sequence. I learned a watered-down version of Hedwig’s Theme, The Phantom of the Opera Overture, and Jurassic Park. It was a good way to gain quick satisfaction, and it was a blast to hear the piano music again.

It filled my heart a bit fuller again when I felt empty.

The Yamaha P-45

Fast forward to 2023, I had let the broken keyboard go and was keeping my eye out for a used free piano on Craigslist, but truly my current rental is too small to accommodate such an instrument. But something really cool happened, Kyle found a music shop nearby and encouraged us to go. He was on the hunt for an electric guitar. The music shop was incredible. It smelled like all the piano shops I had gone to with my grandma as a kid. A flood of memories came back, warmth deep in my heart. With great surprise, they carried something that would make me feel reconnected with my past – a digital piano with weighted keys that felt the same as my grandma’s grand piano!

Since she passed away in December 2022, I’ve felt a bigger emptiness in my heart. A vast homesickness that can’t be solved until I move on from this world. But, when I put my hand on those keys, the expanse felt a bit smaller. Have you ever felt that way? It’s this pure bliss of memory that is like a big hug to your weary heart.

There is one elephant in the room, pianos even digital ones are quite expensive.

Like, it’s not an impulse purchase. But that is where another principal comes in – delayed gratification. Over several months and previous months of careful saving, we were able to purchase the digital piano and stand. Through the process of waiting, saving, and dreaming, I was primed and ready to dive in and be a committed student. This was not going to be a repeat of my previous tries, I even bought a piano theory book!

To my surprise, all those mornings of eating breakfast to the accompaniment of piano lessons, some of those lessons stuck.

The book is teaching me musical theory, treble and bass clef, and how to read music – the foundation. And the foundation is jogging my memory to all the little techniques my grandma used. How to navigate the guide notes, how to skip thirds, and to make sure to not play by ear but truly understand the technique of what I am doing, and have good form with my fingers. Although sometimes I get sad that she doesn’t get to know this part of me, through my memories, I feel as though I am still getting to do this with her.

Crescendo

Sunday I felt the peak of my piano success, a real milestone. I have been diligently playing through my lesson book, learning and repeating the instructional songs, even if I feel like I know them. I want to remember and have the skills not hubris. And so, to begin my lesson I went back a few pages, as I do. I played through the French Minuet sample, a bit of Mozart samples, onto Home on the Range, through a taste of bass clef practice. Moving to the understanding of C Pentascale, on to let’s play hands together up to a bigger octave. I am so engrossed in my lesson that I begin to play a familiar tune without stopping to see what it was. I moved on to this song, not thinking much of it because I’m learning here, really getting it and somehow I am playing hands together! With a rhythm and respect to the time signature, who are these hands? But my hands, are uncoordinated and frustrating! They don’t do this, right?

I feel the same thrill that came when I drove our standard transmission for the first time in top gear. It feels good.

Then I stopped to notice, hey, this is my first Beethoven piece.

A simplified version of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9, Ode to Joy or the Hymn ‘Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee’ depending on your context. What a milestone! I wanted to learn how to play the piano, with theory and discipline, and learn not a popular tune but a classic. In that moment I understood why good things take time. It is a craft. It cannot be rushed.

I look forward to my next piano milestone!

#19 – Canning, No Reservations, Gratitude

We had a busy weekend, many canning projects to preserve, and some errands to run. The usual weekend things. I’ve noticed the more hobbies my husband and I take on, the happier we are because there is just something enticing to us about going to bed worn out from the hard work with a smile of accomplishment on our faces. I’ve started to keep a journal of our weekends, how we did the projects, and little details that happened – like little silly things that make me smile or how we put the recipes together. Having that little record of these weekends that otherwise could be a blur of repetition and hard work makes all these moments spent with Kyle, sweeter.

Friday Sunshine

I want to remember those tiny drops of sunshine moments that make life a remarkable story. To slow down and think through those bits of joy sprinkled within the mundane and chaotic. On Friday after work, we stopped by our local Aldi to pick up potatoes and vegetables to preserve and the mushrooms we wanted were in stock and $0.99 a carton. The sun was warm, bright, and revealing the splendor of summer to come. We drove with the windows down listening to Babel by Mumford and Sons – a college throwback.

Moderngurlz posted a banger of a video about Chanel and I spent my late afternoon soaking in the sounds of nature while I wrapped up a panel of a sweater tank. In the golden hour, my next-door neighbor, a good friend texted me and I stopped by for a visit – I love those moments of fellowship and Kpop discussion. Her daughter had a fundraiser for her school and I had the opportunity to participate in what makes communities great – helping each other. That evening we watched round one of the Pro Bull Riding Tour in Everett, Washington. My favorite animal athlete Domino had a good out, and the Cowboys got a few qualified rides but mostly injuries.

Saturday Fluff

I started the day with the newest Bernadette Banner upload on corsetry and a bowl of fresh kiwi, scone, and dairy-free whipped cream. On Saturday, the weather became a whole new season. It was the misty, cool gray of an Irish day. With rain jacket in tow, we went to Walmart which is not my favorite place on a Saturday – because it seems to be everyone’s favorite place on a Saturday – it was the most happening place in town. Despite the crowd, we met the nicest employee who helped us match some paint. Well we tried to match some paint and it didn’t go as planned but those moments of searching for the right color formula for the paint shade “Reindeer Fur” while discussing the quirks of horse hair plaster were a joy. Like watching an episode of Gilmore Girls, the small-town charm peaked.

My favorite place to run an errand is the Agway store. What is Agway? A local feed supply, pet, and garden store that dots the South Western Pennsylvania landscape. It has the garden things that you actually need and knowledgable people, it has the smells from hay, to fish food, to blood meal fertilizer – the funkiest garden smell. It also has bunnies and ferrets! I used to have a pet bunny, and my friend had a pet ferret, I love small furry creatures so this place gives me all the feels. I want to adopt another bunny, yet our current rental does not allow pets so for now I soak up the small moments of bunny cuteness at the Agway. This time did not disappoint! I got to hear the bun nibble on a small snack, flop on her bed and make some teeth purr chatter as she drifted off to a nice nap. I also got to pet a ferret! The employees regularly tend to any animals they have and so while the employee was playing with one of the ferrets she called me over to give the ferret some attention. It did try to bite me but it was still cute.

Later on, the day was a symphony of potato peels, random snacks, canning jars, and episodes of No Reservations. The Ozarks and Heartland episodes. Recently, Domino’s opened a store in my town, one of the only delivery places I can eat at since I have a dairy/beef intolerance. My food of choice is Mango Habanero Wings. Not having to cook was a delight but then our delivery driver showed up in a sweet street-style look with bright orange sneakers and a black and white camo coat. The fashion scene around here is pretty dull, so seeing anyone mix it up gives me a small delight. In the late hours of canning, we caught a live show on Sirius XM The Message from Blessing Offor. His music is uplifting and soulful. Highly recommend checking him out. With a cup of Chamomille tea in hand, the night ended with a Simple Living Alaska video. A great way to end a long day of hard work.

Sunday Steam

A dish I make a lot is Miso Soup, a dish you need a good broth to layer as the base. A pantry staple Kyle and I have wanted to learn is the art of crafting a layered, umami-bomb-style, broth. I’m happy to say, it turned out well! Adding another table to our canning setup made the difference, there was so much counter space this time. We spent the day chopping, stirring, and managing the steam emanating from the kitchen.

I leveled up in my piano lesson book to Unit Five. The short round of the PBR was theatrical to the end. I sewed my sweater tank together and began the final panel. We watched a mix of No Reservations and Hometown. I dreamed of wallpapering a future historical house like Erin and maybe visiting Africa one day, while taking in Anthony Bourdain’s travels through Namibia and Ghana. At the end of the day, I reveled in a bowl of noodles with fresh broth and tried to not think of The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova as we enjoyed the Romania episode of No Reservations. T’was a good weekend.

Knitting Tests My Patience

It’s the start of a new project. I select my needle gauge and yarn ball. The time to cast on is here. Time to begin the endless loops of yarn twisting around the knitting needles. Let’s make something out of a static strand.

Knitting as a creative process for me has been something akin to ‘The Curse of Oak Island’. Are they ever going to find the treasure? Am I ever going to be good at this? I know what I want to accomplish. I can see the project in my mind and then it’s a blur. It’s like the stitches take the lead and maniac style they wreak havoc.

When the stitches take the lead, things go awry, why am I wasting my time? It’s been a creative tragedy in the Greek theatrical sense of the word, a project unraveled by Act Three. So, why do I keep trying? I want to succeed like all these other knitters I see on Pinterest and Instagram. They make such cute designs. Knitting your own piece is a lot cheaper. It’s rewarding to see your handiwork not just make the design of the garment but the actual fabric! As a seamstress and creative person, I want to climb this mountain no matter how long it takes so that I can finally taste sweet success.

Accepting Trial and Error

It’s weird, knitting has been the most frustrating yet fascinating hobby because, unlike sewing, you begin with nothing. It’s a ball of yarn and two sticks, that come together to create shapes based on how you loop the yarn, stitch after stitch. Negative space to positive.

The tantalizing simplicity of knitting sucks me every time, and yet in three years of trying, and countless attempts, I’ve made one garment that I like. One garment came out the way I pictured in my head. That’s a terrible conversion rate if you think about that in terms of football. What would be the point in continuing unless you love playing the game. Because at its core, knitting is an investment in time. If you want to make a project of size and use, like a sweater, it’s a multiple-month commitment if you’re a quick and capable knitter. It is a slow process. Like painstakingly slow for me at times, and repetitive.

Patience is not my strong suit, and so knitting has challenged me. It has frustrated me to my core when I have dropped a stitch and I have to frog (unwind) row after row of work. Hours of progress dissolved from my project in a minute, only to remain in my memory. But when you get it right, as what happens in life when you accomplish a goal you’ve had for a long time, the victory is sweet. Completing a panel of a sweater or a hat without failure, and the project removed from the needles looks like what you imagined in your head – well that is euphoria!

Because of how tricky executing a knitwear project has been for me I get excited even when it sucks. Like this experimental tank I made in 2021.

It’s weird and avant-garde. My lack of understanding of how knitwear stretches and shapes based on needle gauge caused some rolling issues. The tank was not what I expected but also not a disaster. It’s weird being pleased with your own mediocrity. I think that is what is so interesting about this skill-acquiring process. It’s student work, but it’s your student work so there is a sense of pride. I made this thing and it doesn’t fall apart! It also looks like a crop top – woohoo! There’s an accomplishment in finishing, like when you took a terrible class in college and instead of dropping it and starting over you grind for the credits. I guess it is character-building!

Experimental Success

It hasn’t all been for naught, I would say it is Yarn – 10, Magz – 7. That’s a decent record. It’s cool to look back at things I’ve learned along the way like this Steeple stitch and see that yes, I am getting better. I love the texture of this piece and hope to remake it someday with the proper sizing and needle gauge. Below there is a ribbed hat with pom-pom, a striped scarf, a rugby stripe hat and matching scarf (not pictured), and a Flying Geese Stitch cardigan coat. It hasn’t been a waste of time even though knitting has made me very frustrated. It’s a nice skill to have.

#18 – Mandalorian Mindset

*Hello there, the following post contains spoilers.*

I was reminded of something this week as I watched the latest episode of The Mandalorian: how life changes. And how those changes shape our current circumstances and then affect how we consume stories. It will then affect why we return to the table to consume the food of the story, how often we return, and why we need the thrill of the escape. It changes how we experience the taste of the tale. But over time our palettes change and our appetites lead us to crave different plots. This I forgot. 

I enjoyed the rogue direction of the third season. I know that is not a popular opinion, but watch the Clone Wars series and then you will see the value of this season. The Clone Wars animated series showcases Mandalore as it was, and Bo-Katan Kriese as she was before the purge. It makes a complete song out of little melodies of Mandalore sprinkled in the Star Wars universe. So with that in mind, I came to the table of Season 3, Episode 7 expecting one thing and left the table with indigestion ready to flip the table and walk away.

Because I was looking for something not really found in the Star Wars universe – hope and happiness. 

It is not a cozy world and that used to be part of the Star Wars adventure for me. It was a rush to watch the epic struggle between the empire and the rebels, yet after a devastating 2020 and a dangerous beginning to 2021, I experienced a lot of personal adventure and personal loss. I felt a bit like I landed on the wrong side of the battle and lost my sure footing. I have been looking for more wins in what media I consume to escape the reality of life. Simply put, my appetite has been craving cozy and comforting. Stories where good triumphs over evil. Because let’s be honest, after seeing what Russia has done in Ukraine and China in Hong Kong, do we really need more reminders of what the Empire-like structures are capable of? But that is not what Stars Wars is about, I was making it about me and what I want, and I the viewer forgot what cuisine I signed up for. 

As a highly sensitive person, I take in the emotion of whatever environment I’m in. I absorb the world like a sponge. This has good and bad connotations. I will empathize with your victories and will feel distraught by the pain of losses. With this in mind, watching the final scenes of “The Spies” was quite a lot for me. I was stuck where I sat and felt the wave of loss wash over me like it was happening in real life. I was so absorbed in the story I was reminded of times I have lost someone unjustly, the times my dad felt ripped from my life and I cried as the final blows came from the Red Guards.

I forgot to watch gently and prepare myself for the Star Wars formula of disrupting families, and the balance of good and evil which means evil never really disappears. In comparison to my study of the Bible in the past few years, I’ve gotten used to and even comfortable remembering that evil never wins and death is defeated. That doesn’t jive with Star Wars. It’s like in the Clone Wars, getting so attached to Anakin, Ahsoka, and Obi-Wan as a unit. Nothing lasts forever in the Star Wars universe, and so the good will be balanced with the bad. Revenge of the Sith does come and unity is replaced with division. 

What was so weird about this experience was that I realized how much I have changed and grown since I began watching The Mandalorian in 2020. In the break between December 2020 and March 2023, I became a different person and my life took a different shape. My wants for my life and my eyes for the world have been transformed by the Word of God and I found myself arguing in my head with the writers of The Mandalorian for their storytelling choices to continue the story arc of loss and suffering for these characters I truly love. But what I was arguing for in my head would not make the tale of Star Wars authentic anymore. It is the way it is for a reason.

But that is the point I was missing, it is a story and not real life, and the loss and suffering are not real. Because it is a story, it is teaching us something, communicating something. I think the key I was missing was that the characters of the Star Wars universe are fighters, they keep going when they are outnumbered.

They fight against the odds and choose to persevere when it doesn’t make sense to keep trying. That is a good thing.

We too easily give up on life when the hard things come. We are too easily discouraged by the fight ahead and do not show up with the heart to continue pressing on. I admire that kind of courage! I desire that kind of strength and perseverance. We are reminded by the story of Star Wars to never lose the rebel spirit and that is what makes the story so good. This is the way.

#17 – Bad Writing Habits

Do you ever struggle with bad habits when you create? I do. I have the tendency to write from a place of pain or darkness and think the pain will create better art. You know, that tortured artist thing that our cultures celebrate. I get stuck in such a trap of that. I try to follow and write what I know but then if I am going through a day that reminds me of former pain my mind will get bogged down in that creative darkness and make things that I don’t like.

Everything is Content

Today, for instance, I spent the morning writing an essay about Prince Zuko that should have worked and instead of writing clear, introspection on his character it became a deep and personal comparison to things I see in my own family dysfunction that are not in line with the vision I have for this blog. I was proud of the piece until I asked my husband to read over it, and I became so embarrassed of the thoughts I had on the page, the emotional tapestry I wove, and that got me thinking are we getting too comfortable with oversharing in our modern age?

Like, if I’m not comfortable discussing such a personal and painful topic with my husband, who is my best friend, why would I think that would be a good piece of writing to share on the internet? It’s bizarre how social media has rewired our brains to view not just pain as art but pain as content. Take for example the popularity of the “Storytime era” on Youtube, making this personal content brought in huge views for creators but exposed the private lives and relationships of these creators to the general public. I’ve seen follow-up videos from such creators where they express regret for revealing so much information and the consequences this had on their relationships.

Joy > Pain

A friend of mine challenged me to write from a place of joy instead of pain, and I think her words are more profound than I realized. I think we should celebrate joyful, uplifting content as much as we do emotional, heartbreaking content. Learning the art of creating from a healthy place is far more valuable than we give credit to.

But when I stop and think about it, in this broken world and its 24-hour news cycle, I find myself gravitating toward comforting things. So if I choose to seek out calming and uplifting stories, why should default to making content that I would not seek out? It doesn’t make sense. That’s probably why, it’s my bad habit. And why I am struggling to write fiction again.

Because it takes guts to move beyond the habits and the easy, clickbait-style content and make good, useful things that may not receive the same appreciation but are better for the world, in my opinion. That’s not to say I don’t think honest, truth-speaking writing is always going to be comfortable or uplifting, that’s nonsense. Some of the most important pieces of writing are not comfortable reads, they challenge us. What I am saying is, I think my bad habit holds me back from making better art with my words.

Lost Art of Thinking

Something I realized today after I trashed my draft and saw that I had lost hours of productivity, was that I didn’t lose time or productivity after all. I had written something great but placed the piece in the wrong category in my mind.

For me, I was writing a post that would be shared and would be a useful thing for this blog, but in actuality, it was a helpful piece of journaling for me to get my private thoughts out on the page. Journaling is the right application for those kinds of pieces, it is what I am comfortable with and in writing privately I am not wasting my time. I’m getting thoughts out on the page and clearing my mind for better things. It is refreshing my mind in a creative sense.

Not everything has to be made for a purpose bigger than making it. Not all thoughts have to be shared. Social media platforms encourage us to do that, even reward us, but that is not the whole truth. Sometimes taking the time to meditate and think will produce greater fruit than putting the original thought out on social media.

I can feel how the last ten years have shifted my brain to create differently because of social media, and I’m not sure if it is a good thing. I’m glad I gained the confidence to share at all on these platforms, but I don’t want to be so comfortable that I forget to slow down and consider the thing I am making. I want to make things that matter, regardless of how well they may or may not perform.

Dear reader, what do you think? Do you agree with my thoughts on my creative bad habit? Do you have any bad habits of your own? Thanks for spending time with me today. I wish you happy and healthy creating!

#15 – Pattern Drafting

The most intimidating part of sewing for me has been pattern drafting. Possessing the understanding to draft a pattern for a garment demonstrates the knowledge of how the pieces of the clothes we wear every day are put together, plus having the foresight to sketch out the shapes on the fabric in a 3D form. It’s a lot! But that is how clothing makers have designed and crafted pieces for most of fashion history. Before the paper pattern was made available in the mid-19th century, garment makers had to understand how to create these building blocks.

“All devotees of home sewing should know these two names: Madame Demorest and Ebenezer Butterick. Madame Demorest, wife of a successful New York merchant, was the first pattern maven. In the 1850s, she began selling tissue-paper patterns for home sewers via mail order advertisements in fashion periodicals such as the Ladies Gazette and Godey’s Lady’s Book. Initially, these patterns were ungraded, meaning that the seamstress had to enlarge or reduce the pattern to fit her figure. Garment elements such as sleeves, bodices and skirts were sold individually so that the sewer could create her own dress. In 1860, Madame Demorest began to sell her patterns through her own publication, called The Mirror of Fashion. Patterns were also sold via “Madame Demorest’s Magasins des Modes” shops, of which there were 300 national and international locations by the middle of the 1870s. By the late 1880s, Madame Demorest and her husband had sold their pattern empire and turned their interests to philanthropy. Though Madame Demorest may have been the first to sell tissue-paper patterns, Ebenezer Butterick was the first to sell graded patterns. According to Butterick’s corporate history, Butterick created graded patterns in response to a comment his wife made when sewing a garment for their son. “

Museum, F. (2009, August 4). Sewing patterns. FIDM Museum. https://fidmmuseum.org/2009/08/sewing-patterns.html

What I have challenged myself to do in my journey of sewing is to understand these building blocks to create my unique patterns and connect with the craft of it as a maker. I’m a nerdy person, I love digging into the story beneath what we do. That’s why majoring in History called to me even as my desire was to study fashion. I realized through the mentorship of a great professor that I could understand the motivation behind the garments and how people lived their lives in them which would provide a deeper understanding of fashion history. How cool is that? Since that point in my studies, I’ve craved a deeper connection to clothes. It became more than just an artistic exercise of sketching a design I had in my head, I wanted to understand why fabrics are the way that they are. How trends interacted with culture and history. And so as I was looking to go deeper in 2021, I consumed a lot of Bernadette Banner, Nicole Rudolph, Karolina Zebrowska, Morgan Donner, and Cathy Hay’s content. They dig into the meat of garment construction and silhouette in a way I wasn’t introduced to fashion design by Vogue or Harper’s Bazaar. In doing so I knew, yes paper patterns would be necessary to learn from, but I needed to learn how to draft the shapes in the old way to make things I couldn’t find in the pattern envelopes of Joann Fabrics or Mood’s Sewceity.

For example, the silk halter dress and black and white tank dresses were hand drafted from my own measurements, being draped and cut based on my own form. In comparison, the light blue summer suit above was made with the assistance of two paper patterns to understand the construction of a collared shirt and shorts, two pieces that are essential building blocks of a wardrobe. But after I used the pattern to understand how to shape a collar and cut lines of shorts it was time to go back to drafting what the garment would look like based on my own pattern pieces. Yes, the suit is quite messy and I’m not thrilled with the fit of how it came out. I realized the tailoring was goofy because I deferred too much to a standardized pattern shape and now if I re-made it I could draft the whole pattern by hand according to my own custom measurements.

That is why the learning process of pattern drafting has been such a rewarding quest, it has de-programmed my brain from the effect of standardized sizing and fast fashion. Those pre-made patterns while essential to learn, can’t fit everybody and every shape it’s not possible. My student garments have not been the most flattering or pretty to behold because I am learning the process of fitting, it’s been a slow burn but when it all comes together I can see how much clothing is actually made for an individual instead of a mass market is just so dang luxurious to wear. Even when it is not perfect I’ve felt the reward. The bigger reward though is that because it is a learning process, eventually the tailoring and my construction skill set will catch up to the ideas in my head and my clothes will turn out exactly how I picture them.

I think sometimes we underestimate the effect fast fashion is having on our minds in the way we relate to clothes. We are accepting uncomfortable, cheap-quality, synthetic fabric clothing that is made to be disposable. It is not supposed to be like that. Take this dress featured below, it is made from 100% cotton that I purchased for $4.00 a yard from a quilting fabric store. Because it was a natural material it held up to wear and washing and was breathable. It was such a comfortable fabric to wear in the summer and did not fall apart. The dress I made was drafted according to an older style of skirt, with 10 skirt panels that were tapered to the waist to make the skirt swish, as taught to me by Bernadette Banner’s videos. I then drafted the bodice using historical dress-making techniques from the Victorian era, as taught by Cathy Hay’s videos. This garment fits me better than my wedding dress. Hands down the best-tailored garment I’ve made according to traditional construction techniques! It took me four months to complete, as I was still learning how to sew and draft. It only cost me $16 dollars in fabric although it looked far more expensive when it was done. I guess my point is by sharing this is to share with you, reader, is to share how valuable it can be to learn the old techniques instead of deferring to technology. Let our knowledge and craftsmanship define our creations instead of a piece of technology, like AI. Not all of our modern ways know best. Fast fashion certainly doesn’t!

#11 – The Battle

When I began drawing close to the Lord and leaning on Him, I knew it would be a journey of hills and valleys. The highs have been transformative, and life-giving. I did not expect how much spiritual warfare would affect my day-to-day life! This battle feels endless some days.

I’m not sure if it was naivety or purely immaturity but growing up I thought only “important” people experienced this like heroes of faith in the Bible or spiritual leaders in the modern day, I missed the point that just like the Bible was created for everyone, the stumbling blocks that try to steal our peace affect everyone. Looking at it objectively it makes sense if spiritual warfare literally fights against us growing the Kingdom of God, and we as believers are all members of it, it would affect us all. Sometimes I feel like the church in North America doesn’t address this enough. We get bogged down in the good things, the prosperity, and an inflated sense that things will go right in our lives because “God is on our side, who can be against us” you know the message. It wasn’t until I dug deeper into conversations with my fellow sisters in Christ that I realized no, this is not the case, we are all in a constant battle against discouragement.

One of my friends has lived outside North America most of her life where she experienced a much different kind of spiritual warfare in places where the air felt heavy with darkness. The battle was evident and was at the forefront of their minds and it grew perseverance, most importantly awareness that it is happening! Even though it is invisible to the eye, we need to be awake and alive in Christ. Not complacent. She brought to my attention the importance of prayer – praying over your house, praying over your co-workers, your relationships, etc. We need that lifeline to the Lord to fight the battle for us. I heard so often at school and at home – put on the full armor of God! To not face down scary things without first stopping to put on the full armor of God. But what does this mean? I was so puzzled by this.

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people.

Ephesians 6:10-18 (NIV)

My grandparents recited this scripture to me when I was feeling discouraged or scared of things, I would listen and yet didn’t get what they were telling me. To be honest, I’m not sure I understood the importance of armor until watching Star Wars. In my mind, the armor seemed like a great way to carry a weight on me and be weighed down by the protection, which is funny because I must have thought a lot of my own strength because my approach sounds like I believe I am so powerful I could go into battle like a Jedi. I am not a Jedi, I’m a battle droid. “Roger. Roger. Stand down- oh no I’m *crash, bang, splat*. ” I love those guys, but they are not capable.

Mando is capable, and so are Boba and Jango Fett. They have weapons, helmets, spaceships, and even jet packs to get them out of trouble. Most importantly they know how to use all the resources in front of them and have practiced their use so that they know how to fight against any enemy. Yet, Mando and Boba Fett are not the same capable warriors without their armor, just like we are not capable nor prepared for the ongoing battle if we do not seek God’s armor. Still, what does the spiritual armor look like in practice?

In my experience, I feel the armor of God on me when I prepare with a few key things. I am well-versed in God’s promises. I don’t even need a song to remind me of what I already know and when I feel challenged by the enemy the promise immediately comes to mind that defeats whatever lies the enemy is trying to sell. I am spending consistent time in God’s word so that I am familiar with how this story ends, the enemy is already defeated and when I forget that, that is when he has power. But when I remember and hold fast to the fact that Jesus died and rose again so that death was defeated and my sins were forgiven, I cannot be bullied by the shame of my past mistakes and cannot be convinced that God does not care. He does care about us, more than anyone on earth possibly can because He is God and no one else is more powerful than Him. I am also well-steeped in worship music so much so that it is the soundtrack of my day. With hope filling my ears, and promises in my heart I am almost there. I am abiding in the Spirit who is guiding my heart and mind from dwelling on things that are not honoring to God, I am working to combat my sinful nature to reflect God’s character in the world instead of my own. I am spending time in prayer consulting God and not the world. I am also confiding my struggles with fellow believers, true friends who can encourage me and pray for me when I am struggling.

Most importantly, I remember that under the helmet there is just a human being underneath the armor. Just like Mando, is just a man. That I am not my own strength, God is. Because I cannot do things on my own, I must remain humble and dependent on God.

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