As I have shared on this blog before, I have a way of collecting friends. Recently, someone asked me about my love of moose, and before I answered the question, I blurted out, “Don’t buy me any, I don’t want to dust them”! The great thing about collecting friends is I never have to dust them. E.V.E.R. That’s a good thing because I am allergic to dust. Of course, like most people, I have the inner sanctum of friends, those girlfriends that know my heart and my struggles, and they love me anyway. This is partly their story.
I have those friends that I see only once in a while, but I cherish each moment I share with them. I also have friends whom I have never met. Some are the modern day version of pen pals, and others are people that I have done business with over the years.
confession, I mean, story is about one of those friends. For her sake, she shall be called X. (For all you math lovers, X is getting some love today.) X is a wonderful woman who over the years I would have called acquaintance until a certain EVENT solidified her place in my Hall of Friends. Hey! If the Super Friends can have a Hall, so can I!
X is a seamstress – well more precisely – Teddy Bear Maker Supreme. I am awed and amazed by her work, but more so, humbly grateful. A friend of a friend told me about her work. She put her life’s grief into action by epitomizing the verse “He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us.” 2 Corinthians 1:4 (NLT)
She makes teddy bears out of the clothes of loved ones who have passed away. Magically, she transformed our first Christmas without Reed into one where we were able to “hug him” again. Over the years, I have probably grown into one of her biggest customers and fans.
I loved her work, her gentle nature, and her excellent service, but this past year, I fell in love with her sense of humor.
Brace yourselves, dear readers, because it is confession time up in here.
Normally, I am the buyer of the bears, but last spring, I was simply the middle man. A dear friend of ours asked me to order a set a bears made from his wife’s wedding dress. You want me to do what? Does she know about this? Are you crazy?
He said his wife didn’t know as this was to be a surprise. He relayed how the dress had been in a storage unit they were clearing out and how she said just get rid of it. Okay girls, that might be what she said, but is that really what she meant?
He gave me his money and gift certificate (purchased at Reed’s Run), and went on his merry way. How do I get myself into these things??? No way, am I cutting up someone else’s wedding dress without her permission. What in the world am I going to do about this???
So I didn’t do anything for a long time. The dress sat in a storage tote in my garage forever. My friend finally
harassed, I mean, asked enough that I broke down and sent it. I explained to X that there were special circumstances as the family had recently gone through some horrific life events, but the order was for bride and groom bears.
Apparently, X, had the same thoughts as me, because immediately upon arrival I received an e-mail.
Are you sure that they want to cut into this wedding dress? Just checking to make sure, but I really hope they do because I have wanted to make bears out of a wedding gown for a long time.
I assured her they did.
Later that night, I received perhaps the most embarrassing e-mail of my life.
Just checking in. Also, within the wedding dress box was an animal print bra…was that to be used also as an accent or just got there by mistake?
As I sat at my computer that spring evening reading this e-mail, I am certain that I showed hues of assorted reds that would rival the hidden fabric stash of any of my quilting friends. Oh dear Lord, please just take me now. How do I explain what really happened here? Accompanied with: So that is where that bra ended up!
One of my best friends always says, “I had on my 18 hour bra, and those 18 hours are up”, and that is my only defense. I hate dirt – in my house – and as a girl who prides herself in digging in the dirt most every day in the summer; daily I am faced with the colossal decision of how to solve that problem.
My solution is one that I no longer think is ingenious. Leave a towel hanging in the garage, strip down to what God gave me, and run like crazy to the shower. That plan had worked real well . . . until now. Not to mention that the bra in question is a hand-me-down. There I said it! One in the inner sanctum lost a bunch of weight and passed on her secrets – literally as in Victoria’s – to me. Only of course, there is a much bigger story there as well. Maybe I will share that one someday, but right now, how does a sweet little Christian momma end up mailing a va-va-voom bra with a wedding dress to a pseudo stranger?
I finally summoned the courage to respond. If X didn’t offer a commodity that I adored, I might have just “dropped” off the face of the planet. I pulled from the last shred of dignity I had and went with humor.
Hey X! Right about now, I am a hundred shades of embarrassed. I have no idea on how the bra went travelling. We’ve been doing a major house cleaning and paring down of clutter. Is it cheetah print? If so, then it is mine, and the embarrassment meter went through the roof. Either it slipped into the box or decided it was time to go on a road trip.
Her response a little later in the evening, let me know that she didn’t think I was a total nut.
Yes, it is a black and gray cheetah, thanks for ending my evening with laughter. I will be sure and send it back with the bears.
This was a good thing because I can live with being thought of as a kook, but I did not want to have to find a new purveyor of custom made bears. Before I went to bed, I sent her back a little message.
X -I am so glad you have a good sense of humor. Someday I will have to tell you the story of that bra. When my friend hears this, she is going to crack up because she is a part of the story of my personal mortification on how I came to own the bra.
To tell the truth, I almost peed my pants at the thought of the bra being a part of the accessory packet.
Definitely smiling now
And so it went it. X made the bears and sent them back to my house as part of the surprise. I let our friend know they had arrived, but never opened the box. I felt they were his to open. The bears sat wrapped in the box waiting for their upcoming anniversary.
The day of the pick-up, I was not at home when our friend arrived. My husband called and asked me about them. I explained they were in the box in the living room. Daniel opened the box, pulled out two bears, and discovered a most mysterious package at the bottom.
Thank the good Lord that he gave my husband a good head on his shoulder. I could hear the perplexity in his voice when we called me back within minutes.
Hey Kan, we found the bears, but there is something here about a travelling bra? Am I supposed to give that to him too?
I am certain that they could have heard my response in South Dakota. Oh dear heavens, will this never end? Imagine if he hadn’t called me, and I sent anniversary gift of lingerie to this poor woman – not in her size!
When I returned home later that evening, I found the unusual package in the bottom of the mailing box.
X solidified her friendship with me by celebrating my ridiculous faux pas – complete with its own label and packaging.
With friends like these . . . life can definitely get interesting!