July 25, 2018 AD
Sewing Shayna's Dress in the Craigmore Sunroom
Alone at home on a winter afternoon, Greta Smith sat in the sunroom sewing a plain muslin dress for Shayna, a girl from the ward whose family was struggling. No one had asked her to do it and she intended to tell no one, though the gesture was not entirely free of pride. A ringing telephone stopped her mid-stitch, and she set the fabric aside and went down the hallway towards it.
Greta Smith spent the afternoon alone at home, working at her sewing machine in the sunroom. The day was cold but clear, and the sun through the glass panels kept the room just warm enough to work in. Earlier she had been out in the garden deadheading the lavender.
She was making a plain muslin dress for Shayna, a young girl in the ward whose mother had stopped attending church some months earlier. No one had asked Greta to make it. She had noticed the girl's shoes coming apart at the sides, her thin face and her sleeves an inch too short, and had concluded that the family was struggling. Bishop Hahn had said nothing on the matter, and no one else in the ward had offered help. Greta bought the softest cotton she could afford and finished the seams by hand so they would not rub against the girl's skin.
She intended to say nothing about the dress at Relief Society, though she expected Sister Riley to work it out before long. The act was a private one, but it was not wholly free of pride. Greta was conscious of being watched and measured within the ward, and she resented the expectation that its women keep their opinions small. She had set herself a fast from judgement for the day. The morning's devotional reading had been on humility, a subject that never sat easily with her.
She was deciding whether to line the dress to strengthen the side seam when the telephone rang. The needle stopped mid-stitch and the thread pulled tight, leaving a small pucker at the edge of the fabric. She freed the muslin, pressed the crease with her thumb, and folded it onto the table to be mended later.
The phone kept ringing. Greta stood, stiff from sitting longer than she had realised, and walked the length of the hallway towards it. As she went she prayed for patience, and hoped the call would be short and simple.
