Brothers, think of what you were when you were called. Not many of you were wise by human standards; not many were influential; not many were of noble birth. But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. He chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things—and the things that are not—to nullify the things that are, so that no one may boast before him. 1 Corinthians 1:26-29 (NIV)
Monday was likely my last first day of school. Oldest son graduated from college and youngest will finish his high school requirements this semester. For many years, I’ve been the home room mom, a member of PTA, and field trip chaperone. Plan a teacher appreciation day? Organize a fund raiser? Schedule a field trip? Bake twelve dozen cookies at midnight? I’m your woman. I’ve served on construction design teams, dug fossils, taught how to do tombstone rubbings, peddled chocolate bars, wrapping paper, and coupon books, edited newsletters, and attended more meetings than I care to remember. For the most part, I have done it happily and willingly, but, there is one thing that I am asked to do as a mom that reduces me to a quivering mass of jelly. For like Superman and kryptonite, this supermom has one job that I just cannot manage to do: hem uniform pants. It is not that I cannot sew. In high school, I made all my own clothes. I can make curtains, quilts and bedspreads and BC (before children) I even did beautiful counted cross stitch. I do not know why, but hemming a pair of pants is beyond my abilities. I either get them too short or too long. They come out uneven or wrinkled. My children attended several different schools and participated in clubs that required uniforms. At first, I tried to do my best, cutting and stitching, but by the end, I wept so hard I could not see my needle. Then, I discovered the wonderful women at S & R Uniforms. For a small fee (I would have paid a hundred times more than they asked), they hem my childrens’ pants and sew on their patches. When I enter their shop, I feel I should bow and scrape in humble adoration. With their assistance, I can continue my charade as supermom. Unfortunately, the shop is always so overloaded with work there is a lengthy wait. I smile and beg, and sometimes get moved up to the head of the line. They recognize a desperate woman when they see one. Then, last week, youngest son brought home two pairs of pants on Friday that he had to have on Monday. While it crossed my mind that the S & R ladies might accept a bribe to work on the weekend, I gamely got out my needle and thread. Even with the addition of fabric glue, once again, I failed. I cut the first pair of pants off too short. My husband didn’t know what to do when I rushed in the bedroom crying. I managed to get the second pair done, but they do not look good at all. I will now have to pay $40 for a replacement pair of pants which I will take straight to the uniform ladies. I do not care how long it takes. Monday was the last first day of school, and I will never have to hem another pair of pants again.