Ladies By Design

A Cord of Three Strands

The first year is always the most difficult. With any diagnosis, learning a new lifestyle is challenging. There is no normal. Perhaps there never was. I listen to the rain falling outside my window and I wonder at the instruments chosen to teach me a new song. Diabetes, PTSD, Celiac Disease, and Sensory Processing Disorder. A cord of three strands is not easily broken, but a cord of four may break me. It has, in a thousand heart rending, soul restoring ways. The first two were traumatic, the third educational. The last taught me to reframe life as I know it.

That moment, when the word came, all I felt was relief. Surging, trembling relief. This is the why. So many unanswered wonderings, suddenly step into line. My life frame shifts off sinking sand, and I find my Rock ever there. Always. No matter what. The journey through grief is cyclical. It must be for life ever changes the shape of the journey ahead. The path to the altar is well worn.The breath of release pours out. I held my breath for so long, and find I must practice finding breath again. I inhale deeply, in, and slowly out.

And now begins a season of stretching and learning. Expanding my knowledge base, learning how to care better for the ones I love. To fit together each strand in a way that makes sense for me. Again, and again. Often I miss the mark, and look back, with clearer focus than I had in the moment. Some days I cope, others I soar. I've learned to take care of my needs, too, so I can take better care of those I love. I used to be the one that many came to for support. Now I need to draw back and receive. And the Lover of my soul gives abundance, pouring cleansing rain through me. Each day offers a new beginning, a chance to be infused with life and choose well. I choose. I choose to be Wife and Mommy to a passel of specially wrapped gifts. And to refine my own identity along the way. I am more than what I do.

The rain has stopped, the world washed with healing. I too can be whole, if I choose to partake. Will I resist the cleansing? Or step forward, again and again- though unknowns lay before me. If I stay I will stagnate. I can see the step ahead, and I choose to trust in the One who restores, who holds me through the darkness and lights the way. A candle in the darkness, ready to be lit- to move the blaze with each step, illumininate - if I choose to grow. To respond to the invitation and step out, giving thanks for the glow, and the hope held beyond.

~Bekah

Giving A Uterus To Sierra Leone

 
Giving can be described in many ways. The first one that comes to most of our minds is in the form of money.  When we receive that dreaded phone call and the first thing that is said is "we are not asking for money" but the further into the conversation you get, they are either asking for stamps to be put onto envelopes or sponsoring some program or other. In church, giving most of the time means pulling out our checkbooks or reaching into our wallets. 

Recently after my eye surgery, actually about two weeks post op, I received a phone call with an incredibly sweet voice on the other end of the phone. "Aunt Betty, could you help me out?"  My friend, Summer wanted me to do a little sewing for her. Well, at that time, my eye was not very good but I really wanted to help her. 

Summer is a very unique person with deep roots in Africa. Her grandparents were missionaries and her mother is a native of Africa. I myself have always had a soft spot in my heart for Africa and in 2006, I was blessed by being able to travel to Zimbabwe. I attended a conference but was not able to go into the bush or see an orphanage which was a big disappointment for that trip. Since then I have dreamed of going back to see the real country, whether it be Zimbabwe or another country in Africa. As for Summer, she is studying to become a midwife after already earning her RN degree. She is such a delightful person and every time I see her, she is full of life, positive, and a pleasure to be around. 

As it turned out, she needed me to make three uteri. Now that seems like a very strange request doesn't it? Me sew a uterus? Even though my eyesight was very obscure and the vision of a uterus obscure as well, I assured her I could help her out. As time went by and I knew the deadline was approaching, I asked my husband to sketch a pattern of a uterus for me. I took an old white T-shirt and cut out three uteri, sewed them, put elastic in the opening and stuffed them with fiber-fill. Wow, a job successfully done exactly one day before the deadline. 

The next Sunday night the doorbell rang and Summer had come to pick up the uteri. I proudly took her back to my sewing room and showed her the finished product. Her lack of enthusium was easy to see even though she tried to look and be excited about my uteri. Unconvinced, I asked her, "Summer, are you sure they are OK?" She sweetly replied, "Well, do you think I could dye them red?" A little hesitantly I agreed, "Well, probably, but I have never dyed anything. When do you need them? As it turned out she had a deadline as well and we decided to make a new batch of uteri right then and there. Of course before beginning I asked if she was hungry and received an enthusiastic "Yes!". The only thing I could think to fix for her was a scrambled egg sandwich but it seemed to go down well.

I found a piece of red fabric from my stash and began to cut.  As I sewed, Summer ate her sandwich and when I finished sewing, she began to stuff each uterus. In a very short time we had our three red uteri! 

The reason for the uteri?  Summer and several collegues were going to Sierra Leone to teach and train the local women how to prevent excessive bleeding after childbirth and train on other issues as well, all relating to infant and mother mortality (Summer is the woman on the far right). 

When Summer first called and asked me to help her with a little sewing, quite frankly after I had said yes, I began to question myself why I didn't say no. I have a very hard time saying no to almost anything. Had I said no, just think how I would have missed out on the fun of spending time with her much less the opportunity I would have missed giving to the women of Sierra Leone. I really didn't give much. There was no money involved because I had everyting I needed. I only gave a few minutes of my time. I would like to think that those few minutes I gave will give life to many women and babies who will grow up to make a difference in the nation of Sierra Leone.

My husband and I hope to make a trip to Africa someday.  I have no idea which country it will be but perhaps it could be Sierra Leone and perhaps I might meet a mother or a child that lived because of the gift I gave.  There is a scripture that says "...I tell you, in as far as you did it to one of the least...you did it to Me (Matt 25:40).

 

Sansei Quilt: A Love Story

 

The phone rang. A familiar voice greeted me, "Hi mom". A little chitchat with my daughter and then the famous words "Mom can you do something for me?" Now what mom can resist a request like that?She continued "remember how you made a friendship quilt for the pastor's wife?" Hesitantly I replied "yeah" wondering what was coming next. "Well the workers and I thought it would be really cool to give one to Sansei's mom."

My daughter at this time worked for Sansei Restaurant in Honolulu. Most of the crew consisted of young kids about her age. The owner's mother Sandy was like a mother to them, helping them on the job, listening to them, encouraging them, and being a mentor and good role model. Her love for her son, his restaurant, his crew and his patrons shone through. She lit up the restaurant whenever she was there. It was her love for her son and for people that drove her. So I agreed to help the crew make this surprise gift for her. It was to be presented at their annual Christmas party. We agreed to get the plans laid out for it, buy the muslin, paints, get the workers to decorate their squares, and have everything ready for me to start sewing by Thanksgiving. Well my daughter became sick and there was a delay in the plans. She worked hard to get the crew to paint their squares. I finally received them on my birthday, December 8th. Oh boy only two weeks to put this baby together! Still much can be accomplished when a mother's love is involved.

I had already begun to shop for fabric. I looked for Japanese looking fabrics that had some purple in them. I knew I wanted the purple because one of the requirement for the quilt was that it have the restaurant's logo on it - a big purple octopus! My daughter had faxed me the logo with the instructions that it was to include the words Sansei's Mom. I painted the octopus, laser printed the words, and iron transferred them around the octopus, and then painted them gold. The letters didn't stand out enough so I embroidered around them (by hand of course) in gold thread. I work full-time so mind you I'm squeezing all this into an already full schedule.

Once I received the squares I could start laying out the quilt. And were they colorful! It was an odd number of squares so I had the top and bottom laid out but wasn't sure how to do the center. My daughter called me one day and shared her dream, seems "I had shipped the quilt to her and as she excitedly opened the quilt there was this large, empty hole smack dab in the center. Confused and alarmed she called on her sewing cousin to try and salvage the quilt." I laughed and explained to her the dilemma I was having with the layout. She said she was going to pray for me and that must have worked as the layout came to me shortly after that. As you can see it worked out okay!

I added a hanging sleeve and finished stitching the binding on by hand the morning of the party. My husband agreed to take the quilt over to her. As he left on the plane it was all I could do to drive back home and collapse from exhaustion. How I would have loved to be there as my daughter saw it and as it was presented to Sansei's mom! But sleepless nights and nonstop sewing prevented me from going.

Building that quilt was quite the challenge, from designing, to shopping for just the right fabric, to mad dashes to the store for more of one fabric. Once, my husband had to drive me on a 50 mile round trip in monsoon like weather just to get me to the store before they closed. (I had called to make sure they had what I needed and would hold it for me.)

 

Needless to say my daughter was surprised and thrilled by the quilt. She said "I thought you would just sew the squares together" (lol). And Sandy, Sansei's mom, was overjoyed with the gift. I was able to meet her and her husband and the crew later. She told me how she cried and cried because she was so touched by the thoughtfulness of the staff and the love I put into the making of the quilt. Sandy decided to have the quilt mounted behind Plexiglas and hung in the restaurant for all to enjoy. She felt bad and apologized more than once because the framers had to remove my hand stitching of the binding in order to stretch it.

After it was hung in the restaurant I had a chance to visit her again. We laughed together because - well the bottom was a little wavy after being stretched. But Sandy said it was like ocean waves. She always pointed out how wonderful the fabric selection was "this reminds me of the mountains of Oahu, and that reminds me of..." but always the love shown through.

A few years later I had a chance to go back to Oahu for a two-day class. As I was on the web checking
out the hotel where I would be staying I discovered her son had opened a restaurant in the hotel. I was excited but not sure how I would get to the restaurant where the quilt was since my daughter had moved to San Francisco. After checking into the hotel I decided to scope out the hotel complex and find the restaurant. As I began to approach it I couldn't believe my eyes! There right in the entrance hung the Sansei's Mom Quilt! Well I began to examine it and criticize my work. My quilting in the ditch wasn't always in the ditch and then of course there was the wavy bottom.

Then I brought myself up short- "wait a minute that isn't what this quilt is all about. It was not made to hang in a museum or compete in a contest, it was made to show love. A mother's love for her son, a mother's love for her daughter, a crew's love for their mentor. In other words this quilt was meant to be - a true love story!

We would like to thank our guest author (Marilynn's mom) for sharing the heart and hard-work involved in giving as Ladies By Design. For more about this fantastic lady visit the Rose Journal and be sure to check out her crafts at Big Island Rose Designs as well!

 

The Hills

A friend once told me that he never knew where I might go: in other words, I am unpredictable. However, once I made up my mind, he always knew exactly where I was. I suppose this is a fair statement given the amount of moving I had done over the years: body, soul and spirit. Like many writers, I like to describe moments whether past, present or future. Today, I'd like to share a present moment. After all, as my friend suggested, the present is what I share the best. Someone once said that the moments we describe as being in the present are just that: a present. Today is a gift to be discovered, unwrapped and cherished.

I am wrapped in two multi-colored quilts sitting Indian style on a wooden rocking chair. I must look a sight. A few moments ago I rolled out of bed and fumbled for the coffee pot. My bleary eyes caught sight of a golden wonder illuminating the screened-in outside porch. For a moment, the whole world was dripping in golden honey. Even though I am not supposed to be a morning person, I dumped a ton of sugar into my creamy coffee, grabbed my laptop and heading for the porch. Oh, it was cold but I wanted to be touched by the golden moment.

There are so many moments that the world tells us we must not miss. The new Samsung flat screen plasma with a Touch Of Red wants us to catch the newest episode of CSI. Our favorite department store has a sale we can't afford to miss. Our church has another function that we need to support. There are so many new moments to enjoy and so little time. Although, a good question is: do we even enjoy them?

It's no wonder I was inspired to drink in a precious moment of solitude from familiar feelings like busy, stress and hectic. It didn't even occur to me to take a picture until the golden morning light retreated to reveal a brighter afternoon day. Truthfully, it's impossible to capture those moments, at least with an amateur camera lacking a photographers touch. Besides, rarely do I enjoy a moment for myself. It felt splendidly selfish and holy at the same time.

As the sun rose and my coffee chilled, I went for a brief traipse around the grounds called The Hills at Avalon. It's a magical place filled with life, peace and color. I first visited The Hills three years ago. My soul was in a tenuous place: broken, shattered and beaten. The peace that permeated this land encouraged the deep and hidden places of my heart to live. Beauty prevailed somewhere in the world and I wanted to be a part of it.

The Hills at Avalon is a non-profit with a very big vision. Perhaps that is why I found it a kindred spirit. Much more than an organization, The Hills is an living memorial to the best things in life: family, teamwork, fun, community and fellowship. I could go on and on but somehow words just don't capture the essence of The Hills. As a writer, I have noticed that the skies are clear here of the usual voices demanding my attention. Even though four-wheelers are blazing around me, kids are laughing and cows are bellowing: I am not distracted and I can write. There is a difference in natural "noise" verses manufactured "noise."

I arrived yesterday to meet with Aunt Sadie and Papa George, the founders of The Hills. Several months ago my spirit registered a call to serve The Hills with my gifts. By default, I have learned how to organize well. By design, I am gifted to capture big ideas. My dad would say I've inherited the genes of a fisherman. It takes an organized tackle box, the right pole and specific bait to catch a big idea...I mean, to catch a big fish. Then you have to clean and cook the fish before you can serve it. In other words, we have a lot to do here at The Hills. Above all, my dad would say catching the big one takes a lot of patience!

We have a lot of building projects to finish. However, despite the unfinished walls, several groups reserve The Hills each year to host small scale retreats, parties and such. In fact, I was married here beside still waters under a grove of trees. Someday, The Hills will host summer camps for foster kids, build orphanages and host missions retreats. The Hills is designed and destined to become a source of rest and healing for thousands.  

The morning solitude has finally given way to full blown afternoon adventure. Papa George has run off to see his girls: a demanding group of cows. A couple years ago, a few cows just happened to wonder onto the property.  They've since multiplied and become a part of the family. Texana, a rather independent beast, jumped the fence to find greener pastures as you can see. I think I like her. Papa George calls out to her, "Hey, Texana" only to shake his head and chuckle to himself, "as if that cow knows her name."

The best moment of this present day came bursting through the screen door early today. I must admit I get carried away by the glitzy and glamorous images issued through our new flat screen television. However, nothing can compare to the wide brown eyes of a little boy named Rowan. With great flourish he described the frantic motions of an upside down June bug. The poor bug had fallen down the stairs to land on his back. Can you imagine that? Unlike losing an hour to the flashy flat screen only to be left empty, hungry and resentful: one moment experienced through Rowan's beautiful eyes has left me content, whole and inspired. Indeed, today is a gift and I am pleased to say I have discovered, unwrapped and cherished it!

If you would like additional information, make a reservation or contribute to The Hills at Avalon, please contact Sadie Tellez at 972.670.8610 or stellez@georgetellezbuilders.com.

Revealed

 A few months ago I revealed myself with great flourish and courage in my first ever blog. For a moment, I was so proud of myself. I allowed myself a few seconds to marinate in the compliments of a few friends and family members. Looking back, I had dared only to reveal myself to a chosen few.

In my experience, revealing has been an intimidating ingredient of the creative process. There are some artists that choose only to reveal their creations once the paint is dry. Other artists prefer to collaborate and welcome input. I never understood how the Renaissance artists would gather and paint together. I tend to freeze when I know someone is standing over my shoulder as I am doing something.

While I have grown, developed and changed in the last six months: I have been stuck. Being stuck has been a rather familiar position to me. Every so often I ask my mom to remind me of the little girl who wasn’t stuck. That little girl wasn’t inhibited by rules. She’d color with both hands. She could write a word upside down and inside out. I wouldn’t even know what that looked like now. But for a moment: that little girl wasn’t intimidated to be who she knew to be.

Great artists are a lot like that little girl. Great artists aren’t doing. Great artists involve themselves in creating. Children invest their time in being. Whether in a group or with an imaginary friend: children don’t worry about doing. When did we learn to do things?

I can imagine the Great Creator as he fashioned Adam. He was fully confident in Himself. He fully believed in His ability, talent and authority to create. I tend to believe God was at His most vulnerable state as He created Adam. I wonder if any of the angels questioned God. Would His finished product would be worth the price He would pay? God bankrupted heaven to remain true to the creative work He began. God refused to be distracted and He revealed Himself through His creation. He did not doubt Himself.

Six months ago, I took a step towards revealing myself. Honestly, in that moment I became distracted by voices from the past taunting “Who are you? What authority released your voice?” Rather than continuing to reveal myself I began to justify measures of procrastination. I have learned that procrastinators aren’t necessarily lazy. Procrastinators can be the busiest people on the planet. Procrastinators are simply powerful beings in hiding.

After the fall, the first choice Adam and Eve made was to hide. Genesis 3:9: “And the LORD God called unto Adam, and said unto him, Where art thou? And he said, I heard thy voice in the garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked; and I hid myself.” God knew where Adam was. In that moment, God issued a call for repentance: a change of direction. What did God care more about? Adam and Eve had missed the mark. However, I wonder if God hoped Adam would respond to His voice, locate and reposition himself from a place of hiding into lifestyle of transparency.

I have missed the mark many times. In each step away from the best life God had to offer He would ask, “Where are you?” I have tried hiding. I have evaded taking responsibility for my actions just as Adam blamed Eve and Eve blamed Satan. I wonder if Adam was cursed not because he listened to Eve but because He didn’t listen to God. How many times have I tuned out the voice of God to hear what I want to hear?

The thought of revealing our true selves can be intimidating. But the question is: Who is trying to intimidate me? More importantly: By hiding myself, who am I hurting? How many lives aren’t being touched because I have sought safety in memorializing one small success made six months ago? If God were to ask, “Where are you?” I would honestly reply, “I have been burying my talent…but NEXT TIME!”

While I have been in hiding for six months, before revealing myself, I sought an author that I respect to mentor me. I wasn’t clear or eloquent. I probably drove him a little daft. I awkwardly asked for help in the best way I could. I encourage you to find a mentor who will not let you wiggle backwards.

King David was a man after God’s own heart. He too, sinned and yet he chose to lean into the chaos he created by revealing himself. Psalm 139: 23-24: “Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. Point out anything in me that offends you, and lead me along the path of everlasting life.” By revealing ourselves we are positioned to understand God in much deeper levels. If you want to know God, to be His friend, you will be revealed.