Back in Service

May the miracle you need be just around the corner.

~Vicki Reece

I had been getting many requests for the fabric facemasks that I’d been sewing during the COVID-19 crisis. Unfortunately, I had run out of the elastic for the ear loops. I tried ordering more online, but most stores were showing it as out of stock. I would have to stop offering the masks, which troubled me.

I have a huge white container where I keep all my sewing supplies and fabric. I scoured through it, and even double- and triple-checked, hoping to locate elastic left over from a prior project. Any size or color would do; I could trim it to make it work. But my searches came up empty.

I wondered how long I would have to wait for the stores to restock. People all over were making the masks as a way of helping out. I wanted to continue with my small contribution. I sat with idle hands and went to bed feeling dissatisfied. That night, I had a strange dream.

I was alone on some sort of ride. It was bumpy, and I was hanging on tightly. The scenery was the same no matter which direction I looked — nothing but small boxes set apart from each other. Each box was very worn looking. Then the ride suddenly reversed, and I was traveling backward. I tried to count the boxes as I passed them again. I didn’t get very far before I woke up to the sound of our neighbor’s lawn mower.

I told my husband about the dream. He laughed and asked, “Were the boxes practicing social distancing?” That made sense to me, but I still had a nagging feeling about those boxes. I wondered what was in them. Or perhaps they were empty.

We were having lunch when my husband suggested I clean out the storage closet. I am a self-proclaimed “Thrift-Shop Treasure Hunter,” and I often place the goodies I bring home in that closet until I have time to investigate them further. Having nothing else to do that day, I finished eating and got to work. I was eager to explore the forgotten contents of that closet. I started on the top shelf.

I found a Christmas train that I had probably placed there on a hot summer day. I was happy to find a bag of crossword-puzzle books. Those would help during the quarantine. I pulled out a stack of craft magazines and placed them near the sofa. They would be fun to browse through in the evenings. I welcomed anything to pass the time during these long days.

On the next shelf, I found a box of magnets. They were all travel souvenirs from different places. The box had a price tag on it that said, “99 cents.” The magnet on top had a mountain scene and said, “Austria.” I placed the box on the floor so I could look through it later. I haven’t done much traveling in my life, so I looked forward to a pretend sightseeing trip. To Austria and beyond!

Toward the back of that shelf was a plastic blue box. It was the type of brittle plastic that I remembered from childhood. The box had a broken latch, but I was able to force it open. When I saw the contents, I was surprised. I had no memory of buying this box. It had been in the closet for quite a while, judging by the thin layer of dust covering it. But what a bounty it held!

It was an old sewing box. Someone had carefully arranged the spools of thread and packets of needles. There was a tiny pair of scissors and a silver thimble. A plastic crochet hook was tucked along one side, next to a worn tape measure. I sifted through the snaps and buttons and discovered a few golden safety pins. They were much sturdier than the safety pins of today.

I realized that the top tray was removable, and there was additional storage underneath. I carefully lifted it out and set it aside. I gazed at a tangle of zippers and embroidery thread. Underneath was a pair of pinking shears wrapped in yellowed tissue paper. I pushed aside more loose spools of thread and a strawberry-shaped pincushion. That’s when I struck gold.

Elastic! The perfect size for the masks. Not just one package, but three! Unopened, preserved and waiting patiently to be put to use. I whispered a quick prayer of thanks and eagerly carried my sewing machine to the kitchen table.

As I worked happily on the masks, I thought back to my dream. My subconscious had been trying to tell me that there was a box that contained what I needed. I had searched the house for elastic, but not in the right place. I think my dream had been trying to communicate, “Hey, back up! You missed a spot!”

— Marianne Fosnow —