At the risk of defaming a national syndicate, I think my at home sewing classes are better than Build a Bear. Forgive my bravado, but when a child arrives at the chain store in the mall, the decisions have already been made. There are indeed dogs, and monkeys, cats and koalas. But the bodies have been pre sewn. The child has only a small level of input into how the animal turns out. As in inside out. They hold it up to the pellet blowing machine and pull the string closed. 

 

My son had his birthday party there when he turned eight, and the little mocha bear in tennis shoes sat on his bed for a few years after that. I paid my money and was grateful for such an innocent celebration for three second graders. 

 

But when children arrive in my sewing room, the options are deep and wide. Last spring several girls made foundation pieced houses. Others crafted wedding veils, and a couple made sleeping bags for stuffed toys. Not only did they have no idea what they would make when they walked in, neither did I. 

 

I do admit to steering. If someone aspires to make a dress, I suggest we start with a cape. If she wants to tackle a shirt for her doll, I substitute pants. Once they have a few skills in hand, we can move on to more complicated patterns. A couple have finished entire quilts, which makes me positively ecstatic. 

 

When God invites us to create a life, there are boundaries. Yet not so many that we walk out with the same trajectory as six thousand other people across the country. I believe He maneuvers us past the truly ridiculous choices, and lets us think it was all our idea.