The text came in and, brightening up, I noticed it was from my sister-in-law whom I love as a sister. While I usually smile or even laugh out loud, this text had me knit my brows in consternation.
“Wanna come to a Christmas craft party?”
Walking into any craft store has me breaking out in hives. It makes me anxious and frozen and overwhelmed, and my eyes glaze over. It’s like I develop a serious case of brain fog. Do I select the curly-ques? Colored glitter or neutral? (Is neutral glitter even a thing?) Studs, spikes, buttons, flowers, symbols? I mean, the choices are endless. Then when/if I do decide, what on earth goes where and how?
I’d much rather sit in a quiet house in front of my computer with a blank Word Doc open.
Reconcile a checkbook.
Clean a calf pen.
Seriously.
So when my sister-in-law invited me, my first instinct was a knee-jerk reaction to say no, but thank you for thinking of me. I always have a place at her table, always, and I know that.
Pondering the invite, I began to consider a thought: “In order to have a friend, you must be a friend” and say yes to some things that I might have a propensity to decline. It could be a matter of blessing God or it may not matter one way or the other to God, but it’s a conviction of the heart — not a condemnation, but a gentle nudge.
Now I know that my dear sis is also my dear friend, so I don’t have to really work at this relationship. She’d love me whatever my answer, but I felt deep in my heart, to respect this precious woman, I should say yes.
Walking into her craft shed, she and her daughters had tables fashioned together, making a large square, so that all the guests were facing each other, very conducive to conversation (and help). The tables were laid with fresh plastic tablecloths to handle any paint or glue drippings. At each place was a rounded-top, flat-bottomed slab of raw, pre-cut pine board — the hat. This was our project.
There were paint brushes and paint, Mod Podge, yarn for brim and tassel, custom-made stickers (thanks to a vinyl-cutting machine), and a variety of other embellishments which made my head spin. There were miscellaneous books of cardstock in a variety of holiday prints and patterns. A crafter would have thought they’d died and went to heaven. I just thought I’d died.
I was wide-eyed lost. Turning to a niece at my left, we made eye contact and started giggling. She and I are the ones in our family who didn’t get the creative gene. Oh, she’s surely more adept than me, but I was relieved I had a sort of comrade to commiserate with.
There were instructions from the niece in charge (who, like her mama, happens to be stunningly creative) that left me baffled. It was like she was speaking Swahili.
We started in. Putting on my big girl pants, I rolled up my figurative sleeves and began to make decisions. I actually started to have some fun.
Glancing around the room, the thought occurred to me that there was a lovely diversity of females present. We each added our own expertise to the whole of creation.
One was a nurse, another a stay-at-home mom who homeschools her two active children. One was an office manager, another a counselor, one a farmer, another one a social worker, one a teacher — almost all were mothers with young children, many with more than one.
I am blessed to have the opportunity to write feature stories. The people I’ve interviewed have been innovators; visionaries who’ve forged ahead by grit and strength and a belief that with their unique talents and abilities, they are able to offer a product or service that few others can.
I’ve had the privilege of interviewing a homesteader, a gal who owns a mobile food truck, an alpaca farmer, a nonprofit that finds homes for stray cats, a tree cutter, a mom with a special-needs child who launched a nonprofit to establish a playground where children of any ability can play like any little kid should be able to play, a young woman who owns a head spa salon, and a restaurateur adding a Puerto Rican flair to a Midwestern establishment. All fascinating people.
These examples, along with all those gals at the craft party, left me with a sweet optimism that this world holds so many wonderful people who care and want to bring their own beauty and vision to God’s good earth, making it a better place for all.
To quote Leo Buscagila: “Your talent is God’s gift to you. What you do with it is your gift back to God.” Thomas A. Edison once said, “If we did all the things we are capable of, we would literally astound ourselves.”
Everyone has something unique to offer. Find your niche.
(“Christ gave these gifts to prepare God’s holy people for the work of serving, to make the body of Christ stronger.” Ephesians 4:12)
Kay Reminger was born and raised on a dairy farm, and she married her high school sweetheart, who happened to farm for a living in Leopolis. Writing for quite a few years, she remains focused on the blessings of living the ups and downs of rural life from a farm wife’s perspective.
Farm Life From a Farm Wife
