When I teach sewing to children, I see their dolls and pillows through the eyes of the maker, and they are beautiful. It's easy to ignore the dangling threads, and lopsided legs. Anything that could be construed as a mistake does not interest me when I am intent on focusing on what is lovely. And loved. 

 

The teenagers in my costume class created some terrific projects this term. One girl finished a phoenix, the result of a dare. No one has ever seen one, so coming up with a design was uncharted territory. It had sparky red and gold fabric, wings, and a defiant beak. There were probably inconsistencies in the hand stitching if I looked for them. Which I didn't. Another student made a faux leather case for his laptop. Well as it turned out his seams were larger than expected and the laptop couldn't quite squeeze in. But he decided to put other things of value in it. He was proud. 

 

We took a couple out for dinner last week, and between the time we invited them and the time we picked up our forks, the man asked us our intentions.

 

"Is this to grill us?"

 

I smiled. 

 

"We just want to enjoy the time with you. Hear about how you met, and what you appreciate about one another.'

 

Looking for what is good is so endearing. Why do I ever busy myself with criticism?