As my year in seventh grade came to a close,my friends suggested I join them in signing up for a homemaking class. I thought they were joking. “Why do you want to take homemaking?” I asked.
“Because,” they responded, “you get to eat.”
That clinched the deal for me, and I signed up. The girl-to-boy ratio in the class was awesome, which was another benefit I hadn’t anticipated. Anyway, almost every day in that class we made brownies. Sometimes, we overcooked them, and they were more like burnt offerings. What none of us knew was that the second half of the class was not cooking—it was sewing.
So, I learned to sew. I became adept at the Singer sewing machine. I learned how to thread the bobbin. I made a barbecuing apron that is still intact today. We also learned needlepoint. I chose an awful color of green burlap and sewed a picture of a lion’s head on it. Then I gave it to my mom. What do you do with something like that? Mom hung it above her sewing machine. It was really not fit for any other room in the house, except maybe the garage.
One thing I noticed—it’s important to display the right side of the fabric when doing a needlepoint. If you look at the reverse side, the criss-crossing threads make it difficult to detect what the picture is. If you framed your needlepoint wrong side out, people would ask, “What is this supposed to be?” or “What was this artist trying to portray?”
Perhaps the situation you find yourself in is not what you thought it would be. And you may wonder what the Lord is trying to do when unexpected threads weave their way through the tapestry of your life. This poem by Benjamin Malachi Franklin has blessed me and many others: