Life isn’t perfect. We humans like to make plans and try to figure out the best way to accomplish both what we want and what we need to do. What we forget is that there are larger forces at work constantly. When The Universe exacts it’s plan, undermining what we have already thought out, it can be infuriating.
Especially when it gets in the way of work already done and necessitates some backwards steps.
When it comes to accepting that I can’t control or even navigate my future with perfect clarity all the time, I get frustrated. So you can imagine how angry I was when I finished adding the borders to my son’s quilt only to find that it wasn’t in the stars for those borders to go straight and this quilt to be closer to finishing.
I am only a beginner and I have lessons still to learn.
My plan had been to finish the borders and layer the quilt this past weekend. But in my haste, the borders were sewn on not quite straight, leaving the edges to buckle.
Having left no room in my mind or plans for mistakes, I was angry that my only option was to rip the work out and start over on the borders. And this time to make some changes so that the same thing wouldn’t happen again.
The acceptance that I had made a mistake, wasted so much time and energy only to have to start over, was not happening. I set the quilt down, too peeved to pick it up and get to work.
Finally, after stewing over my inability to move forward without having to do what I least wanted to do, I came to the understanding that I wasn’t ripping out hard work, I was erasing what was done wrong and giving myself a fresh start.
Each stitch removed was a little bit of forgiveness. This stitch for my impetuousness. That long row of stitches for my lack of care. This one for my forgetting to measure twice, cut once.
As I moved smoothly through the light thread, cutting away the imperfection, I forgave myself a stitch at a time. I forgave myself for being so critical of my abilities. I forgave myself for my lack of compassion. Forgave myself for my lack of acceptance for who I am and how I feel.
Slowly, each inch, each stitch, I let go and accepted my own apologies. In forgiving and accepting, I felt my spirit release the pain of my mistakes. Suddenly, there were no more crooked borders but a fresh start.
Forgiving a stitch at at time.
The hours and the efforts were no longer a waste but a test run that gave me a better perspective on the project at hand and new skills to use.
I could no longer see myself as a failure but as a a strong, capable quilter with a more loving and compassion self.