The Lenten Rhythm of Sewing

When I think about having a yearly Lenten rhythm, I always think about my mom sitting at her sewing machine.  

Every year, as my sister, Rhonda and I were growing up, my mom practiced her very own Lenten rhythm by sewing our Easter outfits.  

Tammy (Left) & Rhonda (Right)

It wasn’t a quick project. It took weeks—it felt like forever, especially when it came to trying on the unfinished pieces. The pins were jaggy and the new fabric was sometimes scratchy.  

But, first my mom, with our approval, had to choose just the right patterns. Then came the fabric hunt, which was the part my sister and I dreaded the most. We followed behind mom through store after store, touching every single bolt of fabric while she tried to find the perfect color, the perfect texture, and—most importantly—the perfect price.  

Once the fabric finally passed inspection and all the buttons, zippers, thread, and seam binding were purchased, she would spread everything out on the dining room table.  Pattern pieces were everywhereand pins were in her mouth. And, of course, scissors that we were forbidden to use on anything, but fabric, were ready. And then she would start cutting and stitching, turning all those little pattern piecesinto two full Easter outfits—one for me, one for Rhonda. When I was nine and Rhonda was ten, she made us the most beautiful (and my most memorable), colorful Easter suits. Mine was green and Rhonda’s was pink. We stood side by side for a picture that year, as we always did, feeling all dressed up and mighty fancy!  

…And she didn’t stop with the outfits. Once the Easter outfits were finished, she made sure we had matching purses and shoes.  And matching even pantyhose. (The pantyhose still make me laugh.) It was her way of saying, “This day is special. You are special. Let’s get ready for Easter morning with our whole selves.” 

My Dad had his own Easter ritual. Every Saturday before Easter, he’d make a quick trip into town to Long’s Flower Shop, the local florist, to pick up corsages, that he preordered earlier in the month, for all three of us. He never missed a year and they were always orchids. Those corsages were “the icing on the cake” and made us feel VERY fancy and loved.  

Looking back, my parents had their own way of forming a family Lenten rhythm. My Mom sewed love into every stitch, buttonhole and hem, and my Dad added his bit of blessing with the flowers he bought for us every year. It showed me that getting ready for Easter happens in the small things—in the time you spend, and in the way love that then becomes part of your everyday life.  

AMEN.