A steady stream of sewing gigs come my way. In the past few weeks I converted a duvet cover to a quilt, woke up an antique top that had languished unfinished for a century, and hemmed formal wear. On occasion there is an underlying uneasiness about perfection. If the wearer hopes to dazzle the family at a wedding, or gift the pillows to a future in law, they might expect a high level of sewmanship. I of course do my best to achieve it. 

 

Recently a friend asked me to cover cushions for her outdoor furniture. The cushions were themselves, well, bedraggled, and needed fresh fabric to enhance the sitting experience. Yet the deadline was tight. Two days. 

 

"They do NOT need to be perfect! I just want them done! Really, it's fine if the corners aren't quite right. I thought I could sew them myself but I just can't. I am so grateful that you will even try!"

 

With such a standard of mediocrity how could I resist? I sat at my machine feeling like a success before I even began. Anxiety had no place at this table, and I enjoyed sliding in at the eleventh hour to spruce up her garden party. 

 

She was delighted, and as far as I know her guests felt at ease on the refurbished cushions. Plus I made enough money to buy some of my favorite foods at Trader Joe's. 

 

 

 

"That living a life which leads to heaven is not so difficult as is believed is meant by these words of the Lord; 'Learn of Me, for I am meek and lowly of heart and you shall find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and my burden is light.' Matthew 11." 

-Heaven and Hell 359