You may have never thought much about the shirts hanging in your closet or those neatly folded in your dresser drawers. Likely you knew that shirts have personalities and can influence your behavior through their style and color, yet were you aware how controlling some of them are?
Some shirts like to eat … a lot. Have you ever noticed how neatly you can consume most foods, but when you have a plate of spaghetti, some of it always ends up on the shirt? That’s because shirts, especially white ones, love, love, love pasta covered in tomato sauce. It’s their favorite meal, and they can’t seem to get enough. And you thought you were just messy.
Some shirts will take you places you don’t want to go. I recall the days when schools had detailed dress codes and they were explicitly enforced. For example, if you wore a T-shirt deemed inappropriate, that shirt took you on a trip to the principal’s office, just for a little chat – guess he didn’t have Facebook or Twitter. Sometimes you even got to spend some extended quality time with another teacher after school – all because of a shirt.
But who knew a shirt could lead you out of your comfort zone, around the learning curve to mastery of something new? Sounds like a good thing, right? Actually in the long run it is, but that short run is a killer.
I have a beautiful embroidery machine, a Brother Quattro 6000, but have been so busy with other projects, family events and life in general that I have not had the time to learn what commands would make it perform its magic. Once you master the commands and know which button does what, it’s all good, but until you get there, it can be intimidating.
Recently I was tasked with embroidering the name of a certain organization on 17 shirts. Of course the shirts were not of the inexpensive variety, so you couldn’t make a mistake – or if you did, you had to know how to fix it. After stewing about it for quite a while, the deadline for delivery loomed so close I could feel its hot breath down the back of my neck. I had to do it. Those shirts were causing sleepless nights and butterflies in my stomach. Would I ever survive? I prayed about it a lot, visited the store where I purchased the machine for moral support and further instructions, and then prayed again. (The shirts didn’t know that God cares and can sew.) One by one, I measured, marked and machine stitched each shirt until finally they were finished. Hooray!
Those shirts thought they were going to get the best of me, but instead they helped me to master the machine. Now I can’t wait to start another project.