We sat around the table. Scissors in hand and stacks of old denim between us. I wondered if this is what it was like in the quilting bees of old. Women gathered together, sitting in the humid southern air, our sweet tea sweating in the heat, but sitting with purpose. The fabric stretched and cut, manipulated to become more than just thread and pattern while those behind the hands talked and laughed and sat in the sweetness of community.
Amy had spoke to use earlier about Vibella and the fruitful work being done in Haiti. We listened to stories of women and children and lives transformed by the simplicity of a job and a purpose. Tears were shed in the big overstuffed movie chairs, such symbols of opulence as we witnessed poverty in extreme on the screen.
When asked to help, we couldn’t say no. So we gathered and traced and cut until our hands were sore. We traded stories and listened to others and we laughed until we cried and vowed to never wear Spanx. Because there is joy in service and there is beauty in community. Each woman there had traveled a different walk. Each of us brought our own story and history to the table and this morning when we talked of faith and fear and bravery, I looked on these women and saw them for who they are: warriors and humble servants.
These women with big dreams and powerful words, who lay aside their platform to pray and cut fabric for women they may never meet. I learned this weekend what it is to be brave. That bravery doesn’t always mean jumping first in hopes that the diving board leads to a pool beneath. Bravery doesn’t always mean big to the world or the community, but that sometimes brave is simply stepping outside our comfort zone. I realized in my own life that right now maybe brave means being content where I am, even though the dreams are big and bold. That though I feel like I’d rather be in Haiti, jumping in on the ground floor-brave for this moment is sitting around a table telling stories.
Joining today with #GiveMeGrace over at Lisha’s
Please excuse weirdness, I’m writing on my phone.