So, last week I was struck with inspiration. The fast as lighting, flying by the seat of your pants, type of inspiration.
So, I picked out some fabric and drew up a pattern for a purse.
I then cut out some grey fabric with sparkle polka dots. I started layering other fabrics over it.
I then glued those fabrics down, stitched them down, stitched the outside of the pouch together and then waxed them. All of this happened quickly and excitedly, acting on the passion that comes with initial inspiration.
Then, after the waxing, I realized that my hand does not fit in. I wasn't sure I was going to be able to attach the lining though the layers of waxed cotton. I was sure it was a complete failure. I was frustrated, and flustered. I didn't know how to proceed. I was going to put it on the shelf and move on to something else, as I have done many times before with these types of projects.
But then something amazing happening. I didn't stop. I kept going. I decided, oh, well, it's not exactly as I envisioned it, from a function point of view, but I can figure it out. It's okay if it's not perfect. It can still be a lovely finished object. I feel as though the Holy Spirit stepped in, and kept me moving beyond my old nature, into the grace that God has for me. It was certainly beyond my own capabilities.
I finished it. It's lined, and although it doesn't have a handle of any sort yet, as I had originally imagined it, I feel like it is complete. I decided it looked like something that a fairy might collect important items into, like dew drops and starlight.
So, it's my fairy pouch, a reminder that God's grace (that inexplicable magic of love and mercy) even enters into my humble acts of creating.