Read Part 1 of this story here.
My First Sewing Lesson
My first lesson on a treadle sewing machine—I was excited to say the least. After a year of trying to meet women in this remote African town, I finally felt myself making headway. Not to mention that learning to operate a treadle machine, surrounded by tribal women, was pretty high on the “cool factor” in my book. So, embroider hoop in hand, I entered the room where class was held, ready to embroider me some rocking flowers.
Two rows of Singer sewing machines lined the side walls of the brick room, facing each other like little antique warriors standing to attention. The only desk, occupied by Zem Zem the teacher, sat in the very back overlooking all the machines. Next to it, the only table in the room housed scattered patterns where a few girls learned how to sew dresses. Incidentally, women in town wore only one style of dress. So I safely assumed the pattern-making class was a short one.
The Treadle Machine
Zem Zem assigned me a machine. I sat in a metal chair behind it and watched as she showed me how to rotate the band wheel by placing both feet on the treadle and rocking my ankles back and forth. The trick was to get the big band wheel rotating by turning the hand wheel toward me with my right hand while simultaneously beginning to pedal my feet. Once I began rocking my feet back and forth, I held the embroidery hoop underneath where the needle would descend. But there was no needle and there was no thread. There wasn’t even any cloth in my hoop. My assignment was to rock my feet back and forth.
I concentrated and worked to get my feet rocking the pedal at a good rhythm. That only took a few seconds. Then I made sure my hoop was in the right spot. Check. Now what? Since this required little brain power, I looked around the room as my feet continued to move. Most of the other ladies chattered with one another, or quietly embroidered beautiful flowers in bright colors. I wondered when I would get to do that.
Keep Pedaling!
The rhythmic sounds of 20 band wheels rotating and 20 needles (well, 19 since I didn’t have a needle) plunging in and out of cloth echoed off the cement walls. Zem Zem walked to my machine and observed. I looked at her and smiled, hopeful. She told me to keep pedaling and walked away. After about half an hour, she showed me how to move my hoop back and forth as if I was embroidering a zig zag pattern. I wasn’t, of course, since the machine had no thread and the hoop had no cloth. But this additional movement kept me occupied as one might be occupied who tries to pat her head and rub her belly at the same time.
Eventually though, tedium hit again. The whole business felt monotonous and silly. Let’s get on to the flowers and designs already!
But I am of the generation that watched Karate Kid (the original as a child and the remake as an adult) and I had a feeling that Zem Zem (my very own Mr. Miyagi) knew what she was doing. So I kept pedaling and moving my hoop, and trusted that she had a plan.
And she did.
The following day she let me put cloth in my hoop. That was exciting. Except, I noticed there was still no thread in the machine. Back to rocking my feet and moving my hoop. I did, however, notice that the two movements came easier on this second day.
Progress
And then, after several days of repetition, Zem Zem let me put a needle and thread in the machine. She took her ballpoint pen and marked lines across the cloth in my hoop and instructed me to sew zigzag stitches across those lines. My zig zags were messy and uneven those first few days, but I quickly discovered that the hours of practice served me well, as I maintained better control over the speed of the needle (through the rocking of my feet) and the placement of the needle (through the movement of my hoop).
After I zig zagged across many straight lines, Zem Zem drew a round spiral on my cloth and instructed me to move my hoop back and forth as well as in a circle while also rocking my feet. Boy was I thankful for the habits I had already formed. It was a true “wax on wax off” moment—or “jacket on jacket off” for the remake crowd. (Apologies to those who have never seen Karate Kid).
The Real Lesson
Those mundane initial lessons of practicing the movements afforded me some time to think. Life is sometimes like those initial “sinjur” lessons. We look at others around us and see the beautiful colorful things they are doing. We wonder why we aren’t doing those things. We look down at our empty hoop and our dusty feet working hard to pedal but with no results except tired ankles at the end of the day.
We are tempted toward jealousy of another person’s situation or dissatisfaction with our own. We get bored, we feel that what we are doing is useless. But God is working His wonderful plan, and if we are living in obedience to Him, we can trust that we are not wasting time. Sometimes, like I did in my sinjur class, we get to see the “why” of the hard stuff. That’s a special blessing.
What Do We Do?
What about the times that we don’t see the why? Are we willing to trust Him even if He chooses not to show us what He’s up to? Is it enough that God knows the why?
For the moment all discipline seems painful rather than pleasant, but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it.
Hebrews 12:11
And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.
Galatians 6:9