1. Bits and Pieces

As long as I can remember one thing has been a part of my life, a treadle sewing machine. When I was a very small child, mother would hand me a dust cloth and I was to dust everything I could reach which I learned wasn’t just the arm of the rocking chair. It was also everything below that too. As a child will do, I would hurry through my dusting chore so I could go on to something I fancied more. I was to bring the dust track back to mother when I finished my chore. And she always seemed to have the time to see if I had done a good job. And she always found a place I had missed. She would then hand me back the rag and tell me to finish my chore and work on it till she couldn’t find a bit of dust.

Most of the places where dust could get where fairly easy to get to but there was one place that was a real chore. The bottom of the treadle sewing machine, it was invented for dust with all of its intricate iron work in swirls and tiny places. Now my little fingers could reach into most of those places but it took a really long time, especially on the treadle itself. I couldn’t just go over the top of it. There were all the tiny places in between and under, you had to go around and into each tiny space and below it. And even when I tried hard, I might miss a place. Even though I hated to dust that treadle sewing machine, it held a great fascination for me. Mother was a great seamstress. I always played close by when she sewed. I can remember being small enough to take a nap and hearing the steady movement of that treadle as mother moved her feet back and forth. It was the next best thing to being rocked to sleep.

I don’t remember anything being purchased readymade except dad’s Sunday suits. Mother made the curtains, the bedspreads, the underwear and most of the fabric came from feed sacks. Back then, as some of you will remember, chicken feed came in large bags and were made with beautiful print. Mother usually went with dad when he bought feed, she would select the pattern or color she wanted and dad would always buy several. I realized later he bought enough of the same thing for mother to make whatever she had in mind. They were brought home and put in a mouse proof smokehouse until they were emptied. Then mother would unravel those stitches that sewed them together. It was my job to wind that stitching string into big balls. We always had a supply of string on hand and it was used for many things from kit lines to doilies. There was not much that went to waste then. They had just come through a depression and they never forgot waste, not want not.

Some food came in sacks also which was usually white with riding on them. But their quality was usually softer than the feed sacks. Now all the underwear was made from those flower sacks bleached until all the print was gone and they were gleaming white. I can remember asking mother to let me sew long before I could sit in a chair and reach the treadle. But when I finally grew that big, my loving mother told me I could sew. Wow, I had reached a real plateau in my life. She wisely chose a simple garment, a doll dress. You see dolls don’t care if the seams aren’t finished or if the buttons fall off. And mother knew that. Each time mother made a garment, all the scraps were carefully laid out and rolled up in placed to in a scrap box. And she would let me go through it to find the color and pattern I wanted as I cut the pattern from scratch from my favorite doll. Then she had me lay out the scraps and assisted me as I cut out the dress. It was a simple style to be tied in the back. Then I was allowed to get in the scrap trim box and find small pieces of lace and Rick rack. I am sure that it would never have won any awards, but I was learning and I liked to sew and I was forever hooked. I sewed every time I had a chance and it wasn’t long before mother’s scrap and trim extras were all used up.

Occasionally I was given a little change to buy a treat but I gladly passed by the candy counter and asked mother to take me to the dry goods store to buy a few small pieces of fabric or trim. I would take my small purchase and make it into something for my dolls. And I was in tall cotton, not long after we went back into the dry goods store and I went to survey the possibilities. But my small amount of coins would not buy much. The friendly store owner’s wife who usually waited on us, came over and said she had something that just might be exactly what I needed. She pulled out a sack full of small pieces of fabric and bits of lace and trims of every kind. She then asked me how much I had to spend. And she said that was plenty. And she charged me a little less leaving me enough to get a bit of candy. On the way home from town, I sorted it all out in the back seat and it was thrilling to see all the things that were inside the sack. There were even some buttons. I could hardly wait to get home and sew something for more for my dolls.

Every time we went into the dry good store after that, that lady would pull out a sack of remnants. That’s what she called them. And it always cost a little less than what I had to spend. I didn’t figure that out until years later, she couldn’t have had that many remnants because we went to the dry goods store pretty often. And there was always a large bag full. She planned ahead just for me. And there was always a variety of material, trim, threads, and buttons. How very nice of that lady to do something so nice for a little girl. It gave me great joy. Someone else I can think of planned ahead for me too. He chose to pay all the cost for a big [inaudible 00:06:41]. He planned ahead for you too. He knew there would be bits and pieces and pain and broken hearts. It was his plan to put it all together, to bring joy and become a beautiful shining witness to a lost and dying world. I cannot remember the lady’s name at the dry goods store, but I know Jesus personally, all he asks is that we believe in him, be committed to him and totally sold out.