When I was a child I was never a "baby doll" girl. I think I had one baby doll all my life and she stayed dressed and in a drawer in my dresser. I didn't have much need for her. I did have a Barbie doll however. I loved that Barbie doll with her coifed hair, blue eye shadow painted on and tiny waist. I remember those teeny-tiny high heels that went on her feet and how difficult it was to keep up with them.
The Christmas I received the Barbie, I also received 2 separate outfits. Mama and daddy were quite conservative in their spending and I knew my having those two extra outfits were likely all daddy. He had a soft spot for his little girl. I'm pretty sure I could almost here my mother saying, "getting the doll is enough, Fat" and he probably talked her into the clothes.
I played with that doll all the time, I took her to my friends homes and we played Barbies.
One of my friends, being an only child had several Barbie dolls which I just drooled over.
Even though I may have coveted her dolls just a smidge, I still loved my doll.
If you remember those days, the clothing came on a cardboard cutout and it usually had the shoes clipped into the cardboard, maybe a soft drink bottle or handbag with it. It made a complete outfit and suggested a 'day in the life' of Barbie.
Well, a day in the life of Leisa at ten or eleven was without more clothes for the doll. I believe it was another year before I received the carrying case. It was shiny black plastic, with pink and purple writing on the outside in big swirly letters, saying Barbie. I spent time with sewing scraps from mama, trying to make my own clothes for her. It was primitive at best but did reveal my love for sewing, like my mother, my Aunt Lora and my Mamaw.
I often went to spend the night at my MaMaws, my daddys mother. I would take my little bag with a change of clothes and my Barbie w/her single hot pink high heels. Mama would warn me to keep up w/her shoes, before I walked out the door. Those darn shoes were so hard to keep up with. They were micro small and locked on her high heel shaped feet but if you bumped them, the slipped off.
My Mamaw had her sewing machine sitting right in the living room surrounded by this huge sewing table. Well it might not have been huge, it seemed huge to me as a child. Many days or nights she would sit and sew and I would either stand at her side and watch or contently sit in the old squishy couch by the big floor stove and listen the the hum of the machine. It was the old kind with the hand wheel you had to turn to get it going. I can still hear that sound in my head. Mama had a Singer like that too. Mamaw did lots of different kinds of sewing, mostly as I grew she made quilts but she taught me how to embroider.
She had this quilt square almost as big as the living room, that pulled up to the ceiling, until the ladies came over to sew. Then she would have me drop it down by it's cords and they would gather chairs all around it and begin working on the quilt that was attached to it. I often stood right beside mamaw because I was fascinated by what she could do. She would instruct some ladies, they must have been learning. Others just kept working because they were seasoned quilters. There were world problems solved around that quilt square, prayers, laughter shared and many stories. It was about the only place I heard her tell stories of when she was very young. It was as if the quilts just pulled those memories out for her to display. Then they went away when the sewing stopped. She was a very talented woman and tough as nails, she raised eight children-five boys. She could cook up a storm, she worked hard all the time and she sewed beautifully.
I would organize her quilt squares for her next quilt. She taught me how to stack them correctly where each quilter could grab her next piece easily and start sewing without worrying if they were in order. She would have them all stop and survey their work on occasion, looking at the entire picture. Mamaw gained perspective on the project by taking in the entire picture. I witnessed many quilts made on that old square.
It was quite unlike Mamaw to do things after dinner. She usually settled in early and was in bed early but this overnight visit she sat back down at the sewing machine. She had colorful little quilt squares in her hand. Some of those squares were purchased and sometime they were washed and ironed from old hog feed or cow grain sacks with their tiny print flowers on them. She told me to choose a couple pieces of the same color. I picked out two squares that were white with little cutout circles with stitching that created flower shapes. She told me to bring my Barbie to her. I was beside myself with excitement.
I stood beside her and watched as she took out her soft fabric measuring tape and measured carefully. She cut the fabric I had chosen and in no time she had made me a little dress for my doll. I had never seen her do this kind of "tiny" item work. You know that Barbie waistline was so small but it fit her perfectly. She hand attached little snaps down the back of the dress. I was so proud of that little dress.
Looking back, I know her arthritis often made her legs and hands ache. I knew she loved me. I had many times watched her heat an old iron on the wood stove, then place a folded towel on her legs and put that hot iron on the towel to ease the pain. She would rub that iron up and down that towel until she got some relief. Making that little dress was likely a whim and she must have felt good that day, no arthritis pain. It was a moment with her I never forgot.
I can still see her sitting at the sewing machine working on my Barbie dress. I can see her hands laboring with love over those quilts she made, along with other friends, trusting they knew what was to be done. Her stepping back to survey the whole picture.
It reminds me that my problems are small, that I only see a small snippet of the problem but God sees the whole picture. It is necessary for me to trust and know He desires the very best for me, he always will. He desires I stay close(obedient) and have confidence(trust) in his care. He brings me joy in ways I could not have imagined, he comforts me when I fall. I am never alone. He uses others to minster to me as he uses me to minister to others.
He is an amazing Father. Thank you Lord for grandmothers who shaped us.
