Excess

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I have a lot of fabric.

I used to do a lot of sewing.

Now, not so much.

I have cupboards-full , and baskets-full and old vintage tin-full and plastic storage bins-full of the lovely fabric. 

It has not seen the light of day since the babe was still in diapers.

I have had such a hard time getting rid of it.

You see I still love fabric, but just don't have the same drive to sit and cut, and measure and pin and stitch and then re-stitch because I messed up, and then press and re-pin and re-stitch anymore.

I have periodically cleaned out.

Have donated a wrinkly and ragged edged box of fabric here and there.  Yet I still hold on.  I still sits, un-used.  Not even looking lovely anymore balled up in closets. 

Till this week.


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I love to organize.

It soothes me.

The last three days I have been organizing wads of fabric into fat quarters and 5 inch squares. Then organize them into cut in half wine bottle bags according to color and mood. Labeled with cheeky titles.

Saturday many, many women will be donating craft items or hand made goodies to a craft auction for a very specific reason: a specific person.  Her name is Sroy.  She lives in the Dominican Republic in poverty and is sponsored by a woman's group headed by my friend at her church through World Hope International.

These woman will yes spend their money to get stuff…but its with the community of other women to help and enable a very real woman who has to use her talents and strength to feed her children…or they don't eat.  The money we raise will not allow her to re-model "her crappy out-dated kitchen" or "finally get to take a family vacation", which is what I dream about should some extra cash come my way.  It is once again to feed her children, have a home that keeps the weather out.  Antibiotics.  Those things I take for granted.

My good friend told me "You have to read this book"

Its title is 7~ My experimental mutiny against excess.


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Its about American excess, the church, and what Jesus Christ says and lived out when it comes to compassion, justice, and our money pouches.

Oh, and its funny.

I am really enjoying it.

If you want to feel uncomfortable, convicted, and laugh hard on the same page find out more about it and buy it here: at everyone's favorite on-line book store, you know the one

Compassion and money.

Money and compassion.

Its been heavy on my mind for well over a year. 

The last 3 years The Holy Spirit has been recalibrating me from the inside. 

Like a slow shedding of old skin- I see the evidence of old attitudes, old patterns of thinking, old ways at looking at people and stuff fall to ground and blow away like chaff.

It feels good.  And I am horrified when that old skin starts stretching over me again, like a re-curring rash.

 Really, donating fabric is really so small and painless.

I mention it not to make a big deal of me.

{Though it gave me a excuse to take pretty pictures of fabric again. Note: if you don't sew, there is no fabric to photograph}

I mention it because like so many things in life, when we are faced with huge, horrific world conditions: Hungry children, parents prostituting their children out, AIDS.  We feel sad, but shrug helpless.

However, over the last several decades more and more Christians are looking past their own steeple, their own backyard.  Because they started to get uncomfortable. That sparks small steps, a slight tilt in our perspective, and suddenly we shake our head and hear ourselves saying things like "how did I use to think like that".

No huge guilt trip, no leaving your job to join the peace corps.

That's the way The Spirit usually moves on ordinary people.

Organizations like Compassion International, Samaritan's Purse and World Hope let you sponsor individuals to meet real needs for real faces.

We have our own sponsor child. Luis from Columbia.  We write letters. He writes back.  It is the best way to teach my children global awareness, compassion, and fight that deadly stench of materialism and self-obsession that hangs so heavy at every turn.

It seeps into our home.

My checkbook.

It engulfs my children.

Excess.  Consumed with stuff for us.

May my horded mass of fabric be a first, though it may be a ridiculously small step towards cutting excess and repairing the lost gift of justice and generosity.

Cheers.




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