Last summer a parade of little girls came to sew with me. They often arrived with no particular project in minds, and were swayed by the samples I have hanging in the windows. One child chose to create a fairy. 

 

I plopped a few pipe cleaners in her lap and showed her how to bend them into limbs. Then we wound embroidery thread around them to create skin. The pile of silk flowers came tumbling down when I tried to pull out just a few, but no matter. There is always half an hour of clean up after class. 

 

I left her to winding while I helped another girl with her pillow. She had forgotten to turn it right side out before stuffing, and I gently reminded her. She began again. A girl carefully pinning was bent over her bean bag, sliding in a forest of them along each four inch side. 

 

I pulled out the glue gun for attaching a purple skirt to the fairy, being mindful to keep my student's fingers away from the melted glue. She found the right shade of black yarn for hair, and we cemented that on top. 

 

Then everyone clapped. 

 

After the pillows and fairies leave my sewing room, I wonder what happens. Do girls create small huts for them, with pebbled paths, and leafy curtains? Are the pillows ensconced on pink bedspreads, surrounded by a herd of stuffed animals? Or are they left in a forgotten pocket, or behind the couch? 

 

It all reminds me that my place is to serve the people who arrive within arms reach. It is for me to give my rapt attention, within the spectrum of guidance, protection, and celebration. 

 

Then God guides them to the next person blessed enough to offer care.