#quick fixes

(I keep coming back to this one, it’s getting “truer” with time)

I love quick fixes.

To be more accurate – I love the idea of quick fixes. That there’s something that will instantly fix whatever the problem is.

The reason that I say that I love the idea of quick fixes? I have never actually experienced a quick fix in real life.

Not that I haven’t bought into a lot of products, candidates, ideas, etc., that were marketed as quick fixes. It’s just that the ones that were actually fixes, the ones that worked? None of them were quick.

The ones that were quick? Weren’t really fixes. They didn’t really change anything.

One of the scarier things that’s happened to me, happened the morning after I was ordained.

I woke up, and I was still me.

I didn’t wake up feeling holier. Or at peace with God and life.

The same jumble of worries, liabilities, projects, to-do lists, and anxiety that had bum-rushed me the morning before was still all over me.

Getting ordained wasn’t on the to-do list anymore. But otherwise, it was pretty much the same thing.

Ordination wasn’t a quick fix.

I mean, I knew that it wouldn’t be. That’s not how it works. But there was still part of me that kind of hoped it would be.

What was different? In the middle of the same old jumble of worries, liabilities, projects, etc., there was a clear, unmistakable call. Something down deep that was drawing me past all of that other stuff, and calling me to God.

Not that it wasn’t there before. Just like every other baptized Christian, there was something there, something calling me to God.

It’s just that now, it was like it had been turned up to 11.

This was what I was supposed to do. It wasn’t going to be a quick fix. Nothing was going to be suddenly different. And yet, something was very different.

The thing that was most needful was not to be a different me. But to be with God. To spend time with God. To let God work in me on a deeper level than even before.

Sort of the opposite of a quick fix.

To take the time to become who I had been ordained to be. In God’s way. In God’s good time. Until I was living the truth of the ancient understanding of the reference to the chair of Moses in today’s Gospel,

“The chair does not make the priest, but the priest the chair. The place does not sanctify the man, but the man, the place.”

Something tells me that God is just getting started with me.

I've thrifted this bag during end of summer sale at my local thrift store. It gives me artsy vibes and is just cheerful!

When I brought it home I realized one of the straps was about to snap off. I cut down a piece of pleather to hotglue it to the faulty spot as a first brace and then stitched a scrap piece of what might be real leather (not sure to be honest) over the strap with button hole thread. While I was at it I also fixed the strap of the closure toggle, which also was looking kind of wonky and in need of repair. I braided some cotton yarn for more strength and tied on the wooden toggle anew. (I've realised after taking the pictures that I need to shift the wooden toggle sideways, but oh well. Not taking new pictures now. Just imagine.)

[Image description]

Picture 1 shows the before status of the thrifted bag. It's woven from strong threads and striped in red and blue/turquoise colours (with other thread colours intermixed). The long tan straps and closure flap are made of leather and there's a wooden closure toggle as well. The bag gives an artsy and cosy summer vibe!

Picture 2: Shows a close-up of a very frayed tan leather strap that's about to snap soon!

Picture 3: A collection piece of the old belt buckle I've cut a strip of for the leather brace, some middle brown leather scraps that cover the fraying scrap, my heavy-duty sewing shears and a little white hot glue gun (which is responsible for the newspaper background, in order to protect my table from hot glue).

Picture 4, 5 and 6: Are close-ups of the pleather brace I've attached to the fraying strap and from the leather scrap I've cut to size and stitched over the fraying strap to support it. I've folded down the edges of this scrap cover to make it look more refined and stylish.

Picture 7-9: Show a before picture of the wooden closure toggle being hold by a wonky looking bad, which I replaced with a sand-coloured cotton yarn braid.

Picture 10: The "after" picture of my repaired thrifted bag! Hanging confidently once more and with a pretty new cotton yarn braid to hold the wooden closure toggle.

[First image: a list of pocket measurements from pyjama pants. The blue plaid pants have an opening about an inch larger than average, and a pocket length about an inch shorter than average.

Second image: the pocket of the blue plaid pants, with stitching at the bottom to close off part of the opening].

My phone kept falling out of the pocket of these blue plaid pyjama pants, so I measured the pockets on my other PJ pants to figure out what the problem was. I ended up sewing about 1.5 inches of the pocket opening shut in the hopes of fixing things. However, I had gotten the original measurement wrong, so now the opening is a bit small, and it was probably the pocket length that was the problem. Oops.

(I keep coming back to this one, it’s getting “truer” with time)

I love quick fixes.

To be more accurate – I love the idea of quick fixes. That there’s something that will instantly fix whatever the problem is.

The reason that I say that I love the idea of quick fixes? I have never actually experienced a quick fix in real life.

Not that I haven’t bought into a lot of products, candidates, ideas, etc., that were marketed as quick fixes. It’s just that the ones that were actually fixes, the ones that worked? None of them were quick.

The ones that were quick? Weren’t really fixes. They didn’t really change anything.

One of the scarier things that’s happened to me, happened the morning after I was ordained.

I woke up, and I was still me.

I didn’t wake up feeling holier. Or at peace with God and life.

The same jumble of worries, liabilities, projects, to-do lists, and anxiety that had bum-rushed me the morning before was still all over me.

Getting ordained wasn’t on the to-do list anymore. But otherwise, it was pretty much the same thing.

Ordination wasn’t a quick fix.

I mean, I knew that it wouldn’t be. That’s not how it works. But there was still part of me that kind of hoped it would be.

What was different? In the middle of the same old jumble of worries, liabilities, projects, etc., there was a clear, unmistakable call. Something down deep that was drawing me past all of that other stuff, and calling me to God.

Not that it wasn’t there before. Just like every other baptized Christian, there was something there, something calling me to God.

It’s just that now, it was like it had been turned up to 11.

This was what I was supposed to do. It wasn’t going to be a quick fix. Nothing was going to be suddenly different. And yet, something was very different.

The thing that was most needful was not to be a different me. But to be with God. To spend time with God. To let God work in me on a deeper level than even before.

Sort of the opposite of a quick fix.

To take the time to become who I had been ordained to be. In God’s way. In God’s good time. Until I was living the truth of the ancient understanding of the reference to the chair of Moses in today’s Gospel,

“The chair does not make the priest, but the priest the chair. The place does not sanctify the man, but the man, the place.”

Something tells me that God is just getting started with me.

(I keep coming back to this one, it’s getting “truer” with time)

I love quick fixes.

To be more accurate – I love the idea of quick fixes. That there’s something that will instantly fix whatever the problem is.

The reason that I say that I love the idea of quick fixes? I have never actually experienced a quick fix in real life.

Not that I haven’t bought into a lot of products, candidates, ideas, etc., that were marketed as quick fixes. It’s just that the ones that were actually fixes, the ones that worked? None of them were quick.

The ones that were quick? Weren’t really fixes. They didn’t really change anything.

One of the scarier things that’s happened to me, happened the morning after I was ordained.

I woke up, and I was still me.

I didn’t wake up feeling holier. Or at peace with God and life.

The same jumble of worries, liabilities, projects, to-do lists, and anxiety that had bum-rushed me the morning before was still all over me.

Getting ordained wasn’t on the to-do list anymore. But otherwise, it was pretty much the same thing.

Ordination wasn’t a quick fix.

I mean, I knew that it wouldn’t be. That’s not how it works. But there was still part of me that kind of hoped it would be.

What was different? In the middle of the same old jumble of worries, liabilities, projects, etc., there was a clear, unmistakable call. Something down deep that was drawing me past all of that other stuff, and calling me to God.

Not that it wasn’t there before. Just like every other baptized Christian, there was something there, something calling me to God.

It’s just that now, it was like it had been turned up to 11.

This was what I was supposed to do. It wasn’t going to be a quick fix. Nothing was going to be suddenly different. And yet, something was very different.

The thing that was most needful was not to be a different me. But to be with God. To spend time with God. To let God work in me on a deeper level than even before.

Sort of the opposite of a quick fix.

To take the time to become who I had been ordained to be. In God’s way. In God’s good time. Until I was living the truth of the ancient understanding of the reference to the chair of Moses in today’s Gospel,

“The chair does not make the priest, but the priest the chair. The place does not sanctify the man, but the man, the place.”

Something tells me that God is just getting started with me.

(I keep coming back to this one, it’s getting “truer” with time)

I love quick fixes.

To be more accurate – I love the idea of quick fixes. That there’s something that will instantly fix whatever the problem is.

The reason that I say that I love the idea of quick fixes? I have never actually experienced a quick fix in real life.

Not that I haven’t bought into a lot of products, candidates, ideas, etc., that were marketed as quick fixes. It’s just that the ones that were actually fixes, that worked? None of them were quick.

The ones that were quick? Weren’t really fixes. They didn’t really change anything.

One of the scarier things that’s happened to me, happened the morning after I was ordained.

I woke up, and I was still me.

I didn’t wake up feeling holier. Or at peace with God and life.

The same jumble of worries, liabilities, projects, to-do lists, and anxiety that had bum-rushed me the morning before was still all over me.

Getting ordained wasn’t on the to-do list anymore. But otherwise, it was pretty much the same thing.

Ordination wasn’t a quick fix.

I mean, I knew that it wouldn’t be. That’s not how it works. But there was still part of me that kind of hoped it would be.

What was different? In the middle of the same old jumble of worries, liabilities, projects, etc., there was a clear, unmistakable call. Something down deep that was drawing me past all of that other stuff, and calling me to God.

Not that it wasn’t there before. Just like every other baptized Christian, there was something there, something calling me to God.

It’s just that now, it was like it had been turned up to 11.

This was what I was supposed to do. It wasn’t going to be a quick fix. Nothing was going to be suddenly different. And yet, something was very different.

The thing that was most needful was not to be a different me. But to be with God. To spend time with God. To let God work in me on a deeper level than even before.

Sort of the opposite of a quick fix.

To take the time to become who I had been ordained to be. In God’s way. In God’s good time. Until I was living the truth of the ancient understanding of the reference to the chair of Moses in today’s Gospel,

“The chair does not make the priest, but the priest the chair. The place does not sanctify the man, but the man, the place.”

Something tells me that God is just getting started with me.