I once had many failures hidden in closets and tucked inside drawers. An untouched sewing machine, next to patterns and material never used; bottles of paint, packages of brushes, mere dreams of pictures I would someday create; jars with buttons, tiny bits of ribbon, greeting cards never made; strings of beads and baubles, jewelry never completed.
I tried almost every type of craft, and many times, most times, I quit. I used to think I was a failure, incompetent, inept.
But one day, I cleansed my home, rid its contents of everything that didn’t matter to me. As I poured craft remnants into a large bag, my heart began to ache. I was sad for a life I had dreamt of, one I had never seen.
But a funny thing happened the day I dropped that bag at the thrift store. My heart did a turn around, a reversal, a leap in the air. I was free, I was light. The stress was removed, gone from my life.
I no longer had to pretend to be someone I wasn’t. I no longer had to try to like things I didn’t.
The sense of failure I once felt was gone. I had never failed. I had only tried. I had made discoveries with each stroke of a brush, felt it in the hum of a sewing machine, saw it when I placed a tiny bead upon a string.
That day, when almost every craft was gone from my life, I discovered something new about myself. My gifts were not in strings and baubles and beads, my gifts were in words I would one day share.How can we know what we truly love in life if we never try? How can we know who we are if we never… Click To Tweet
I own very few craft items now. What once filled a room now sits inside a box. My projects were never failed attempts, only lessons waiting to be learned.
You can never fail, unless you never try. Never give up exploring, discovering, experimenting with life.strong>