The True Vyne

i have never been taught to embroider.
today i wish i had.

my dearest grandmother knew how to transform the edges of a simple white pillow case into a work of art with brightly colored thick thread. my husband's mother or grandmother would have willingly lent me their brilliant wisdom concerning needlework. i mourn them all staring at the cloth beside me.

a gifted friend came up with the most delightful and thoughtful idea of making a delicious quilt of delicate antique hankies embroidered by hand with personal messages for our dearest friend who has moved out of town.

i'm paralyzed by fear and inadequacy just now.
my hand is not trained nor steady.
the hanky selected for me to embroider is already quite lovely. will my poor craftwomanship ruin it's elegance?
the words i've chosen to sew took but a few prayerful moments to discover- she and i share so much in common.
now the task is at hand, and i don't know exactly how to start.
i may begin the work by spending time in my garden of all places.
the labor there always teaches me something necessary on the inside.