Snip Joyfully, Then Love Piecefully

So, here we are in 'late pandemic'. A sort of careful excitement is building. Yet I remain disconnected from what may be the end of this nightmare. These past months have left us all a bit broken. It’s hard to get put back together.

When it all began, when there was no PPE, when health care workers were on the front line with no protection, I realized I had the skills to help. I am a sewist, I can create from fabric. My husband is a cabinet maker, he has the mindset for organized and efficient construction. Together we knew we could make masks efficiently, and we did. I sourced materials, he organized the process and cut the fabric. I sewed the masks. He pressed the pleats. I shipped the masks out. We did it 8,825 times. We worked as a team for months. We sent masks all across the United States to people who needed them. Joining the Auntie Sewing Squad (A.S.S. for short, true story) put us in touch with people who had no resources to get their own masks. We filled a need. We were glad to help in our small way. The Aunties supplied a community of makers that helped to keep our focus. Friends and people that we did not know donated fabrics and funds. It was an extraordinary effort on their part. Even with that support, we were exhausted when we finally stopped. Reflecting on our experience, I can say that there was not a bit of joy in the process. There was appreciation, there was a reinforcement of believing in the good in some people, but not joy in making. It was hard work.

Wait. What? No joy? Isn't that what this story is about?

Truth is, it was a slog. Yes, we saved lives, yes, people we did not know were glad that someone cared enough to help. Yes, people gave to the cause generously. Was there joy? No. We were making for others because we felt a duty to do so. We were glad to help, but it was not a happy experience. We were frustrated that our government was not rising to the needs of its citizens. The politics were eating us alive. We were cutting and sewing out of rage. No joy in making in this project, I am afraid.

The real JOY in making comes now. Cutting fabric for 8,825 masks leaves a whole lot of fabric scraps. Bags, buckets, and boxes full. An overwhelming amount of small pieces of fabric.

I am keenly aware of the negative impact of textiles on our planet. While making the masks was a necessary use of fabrics, I still feel the obligation to use all the snippets somehow. Obligation to not waste, obligation to make use of every bit, to eek out one last bit of use before it all ends up, inevitably, in the land fill.

Then, an epiphany happened. It was in the days after the the January 6th Insurrection. Like many others, my nerves were raw. I knew I wanted my country to be better. We were not what I saw on TV that day. Everything felt so broken. The anger and sadness were all consuming. That anger needed a counter balance. We needed to love. We needed to start with one another.

I had a stack of paper bags, I had a pile of fabric, I had some pandemic time to fill.

Love ended up as the theme of my making. Using the paper bags, I tore them into post card-sized rectangles. I brought out the scraps of fabric and started cutting hearts of all sizes. Easy shapes to make, hard to mess up. Rhythmic and relaxing. Then I started to cut out some letters… L and V and E. The hearts could be a great O. Turning down the pace, snipping carefully allowed me the opportunity to appreciate the colors and patterns that I could not really see in the rush to get masks made and delivered. The colors were so pretty, the patterns so unique. The fabrics became a large stack of hearts and letters. They created a peaceful cocoon for me. I felt relaxed for the first time in months. I glued the letters and hearts on the cards, playing with patterns and colors…spending time creating. I played with the fabric designs, creating a feeling of putting together beauty out of chaos. I spelled out LOVE. Lots and lots of LOVE.

The idea of Love Piecefully then came to me. The play on words made me happy. Cutting out pieces of fabric brings peace to me. I was just beginning to feel like getting put back together might be possible. On the back of each card I cut and pasted this message:

I don't keep track of how many cards I have made or have handed out. I don't do well with record keeping. I am in this for the joy of creating and the joy of handing an unexpected sweet message to someone who needs it. (Afterall, who doesn't need a reminder that there is love in the world?). I carry Love Piecefully cards with me. I hand them out to people that I encounter throughout the day. Cashiers, librarians, hairdressers, wait staff, receptionists, friends. The list goes on. I brought a pile to the vaccination center when I got my Covid-19 vaccine and handed them out. At first, people are suspicious. Once they realize that there are no strings attached, the smiles in their eyes are priceless. Sometimes there are tears, sometimes there is silence, but I always know that there is an appreciation for the reminder of love. I mail them to home bound folks and people 'back home' in New York to brighten their day. A small circle of friends get a supply so they can do the same. We are spreading Love Piecefully.

I got lucky, I happened upon a project that brings me joy to make, and joy to share. It is that joy that is helping me to feel less pandemic broken. Hoefully thse that I share it with feel the same.

If you would like a Love Piecefully card, DM me on Instagram @LovePiecefully. Don't worry about privacy, I already told you that I don't do well with record keeping, I'll likely lose your address as soon as your card is in the mail. That's pretty effortless for me.