Mother Paul sighed a deep sigh. The circumstance was
extraordinary and left her in a conundrum. Having co-founded and managed the
senior facility for many years, running a tight ship, she was unaccustomed to
suggestions and propositions outside of the order of her organization. While
she personally was fascinated by Leta’s offer to teach a sewing class to other
residents and wanted to observe the older woman’s handiwork, she could not
offend the three women who had been teaching sewing crafts to the residents for
some time. She paused a few moments. Leta waited patiently. Then an idea struck
her. She quickly worked it out in her head and then spoke:
“How about this, Leta? I will tell Miss Stacey that you
should have free reign at the materials in the craft room, and I’d like for you
to make for us a couple of samples of the doll you’re talking about. Then we
can use your samples to propose a specific class for our residents on how to
make them?”
Paul was pleased with her offer. She felt very diplomatic.
If Leta was good as her word, and Paul had little reason to doubt her, then the
current teachers would gladly welcome her into the fold. They were very
sensitive craftswomen and rather selfish in their ideology that because they
were willing to share their skills, although minimal, the home, order and
residents should be very, very grateful. Any question was received as a
criticism and highly disrespectful.
Leta was completely pleased with Paul’s suggestion, but her
own common sense reminded her that she had yet to prove herself, and although
she was confident in her ability to sew and teach, the good sister had no
experience of it.
“Yes,” she agreed finally. “That will be fine.”
“Very well, then,” Paul concluded. “I will speak to Stacey
this afternoon, and you can start tomorrow.”
The next morning, Leta reported to the craft room, where a
rather suspicious and patronizing Stacey Warzyowski showed her the fabric
closet, thread and other supplies.
Truthfully, Leta had no idea what she was going to make.
Under the volunteer’s watchful eye, she surveyed the materials. There was quite
a bit of red yard which someone had thrown onto a pile of cream-colored muslin.
Leta was holding several yards of green gingham when she noticed it and quickly
put the three items together.
While she hated to have the volunteer watching her every
move, Leta gathered the several other materials she would need for one of the
projects she was creating.
“Are you going to make your things here, or--?” Stacey
inquired.
“I think I’ll take the materials back to my room, if you
don’t mind,” Leta answered. “I need to create the pattern and have quite a bit
of sewing to do. I’ll be able to work on my own time and not interfere with
whatever you were planning for the day.”
The woman grimaced, and Leta could sense that a quiet plan
to undermine her had been squelched. Once her bag was full, Leta thanked the
woman politely and returned to her room. By this time, she knew exactly what
she was going to make.
The next afternoon she presented two exquisitely constructed
rag dolls, modeled on Raggedy Ann and Raggedy Andy, to Mother Paul. While the
nun expected that the project would be successful, she was completely
unprepared for the sheer beauty of the dolls.
“Leta,” the nun gushed, “these are incredible!”
“Thank you,” Leta answered. “The materials weren’t perfect,
but I made them work.”
“And you would be willing to teach others how to make them?”
“Absolutely. I figure five or so of us gals would make at
least a hundred between now and Thanksgiving.”
This final announcement made Paul’s heart beat a minute. She
was a businesswoman, and as executive director, was responsible for ensuring
that the home had enough money to function. A bin of such dolls would bring in
quite a bit of much needed cash to the home.
“Very well,” Paul said decisively. “Let’s go talk to Miss
Stacey.
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