"Pockets of Time"

April 27, 2020 Erica Huff

This tapestry is an investigation into how we hold one another in only “pockets of time” provided us. Similarly, and appropriately for this season, how we hold one another in only pockets of connection currently offered us.

The “Pockets of Time” tapestry is comprised of a series of “pockets” containing remnants of precious mementoes from my daughters’ first years. Blue and beige linen become the foundation for an exploration of knots, windows, and pockets using textile manipulation as a metaphor of stolen moments of time. “Hold you” is stitched across the face of the piece as an echo of what my daughter, Grace, would call out to me when seeking a “pocket” or more of my available time. My heart in this piece is an honoring of the struggle to best fulfill my daughters’ needs in this precious yet compressed season of my life.

The story behind the making…

When I was pregnant with our second daughter, Marielle, I began anticipating the valuable and costly demands of caring for and nursing a newborn. About this same time, my two year old daughter, Grace, when asking to be held would reach out to me with outstretched arms crying, “Hold you. Hold you. Hold you.” Interpreting her “toddler-ease,” I would then set down what was before me and attend to her needs. Aware that very soon an infant would be in my arms and I would, therefore, be less available to “hold you” upon request; I was conflicted with the joys of forthcoming life and the sadness of not “being enough” for everyone.

On a day of solitude used for prayer and meditation before her birth, I was questioning what I would do when my resources and reserves were not enough. A visceral realization that my time is finite; my resources are limited; and my person can only provide so much embrace when comfort is needed. In answer to my longing I sensed the Lord say to me, “I can hold you in pockets of time.” As an answer to my question came comfort knowing that my offerings would never be entirely enough for those I love. And yet they are all they need me to offer.

In the years since, I have discovered that even little pockets of time are rich with opportunity for connection. A brief but deep snuggle on the couch with my toddler, a stolen moment of conversation over an afternoon cappuccino with my love while the girls nap, an interrupted morning of solitude spent in creativity and prayer. All such moments are simply “pockets of time” and not nearly enough to fill the whole of a person but, oh how deep those pockets can be sewn in the tapestry of our lives.

In this time of limited shared connection and community, may we learn to hold one another well in the mere “pockets of time” and space provided us.

A Plastic Wrap

August 5, 2018 Erica Huff

This year for Lent, our family gave up the consumption of "new plastic." Basically, that meant that we allowed ourselves to consume the current products in our refrigerator and cupboards that were wrapped in plastic but not the purchase of any new items that came pre-packaged in plastic.

This was inspired partly by the revelation that plastic is a relatively new invention and yet such an omnipresent fixture in our current society. As the Tru-Form Plastics points out, "for the majority of human existence, our ancestors relied on natural materials like stone, wood, metals, leather, and clay as the building blocks of everything." Now, however, we can't even get our fresh produce without attributing to plastic consumption. Such an experiment then seemed like a good test in resilience of our species-- to see if it's even possible in today's day and age to live a plastic-free lifestyle as our ancestors did. And if so, at what cost.

The second motivation was the increasing evidence of the deterioration of our beautiful planet due to plastic waste gathering in our oceans and landfills. I began to run across article after article showing devastating images of pristine beaches now littered with plastic bags, disposable straws, and other now unrecognizable plastic packagings. I found articles showing m arine birds starving from the consumption of plastic fragments. I even learned that the Arctic, thousands and thousands of miles away, was being polluted by our affinity for plastic convenience. After so many sobering articles and reports, we wanted to see if we, in our single family lifestyle, could slow the curb towards pollution.

And we learned so much from our six weeks of (*almost*) plastic free living. We learned new places to shop so we could buy rice in bulk instead of in pre-packaged bags. We began to plan ahead by bringing extra old plastic bags to reuse as we gathered our produce at the market. And we learned how to make certain grocery staples ourselves at home so as not to have to buy them in their pre-packaged containers.

And we certainly also learned the limits on our attempts: once totally forgetting that Thai take-out comes in ALL plastic containers until we went to pick up our order. Or remembering that Starbucks iced drinks come in plastic cups after forgetting to bring along our own reusable mug. And then sometimes just deciding I was tired and hungry and it felt like too much dang work, anyway. Such is the journey to developing new habits and new lifestyles. Such is the road towards joint responsible living and the caring for our beautiful and vulnerable earth.

As a reflection of our time, I collected the plastic we consumed during those weeks and sewed a coat with clear plastic material. I placed the consumed plastic in the coat and sported the wear for a visual reminder that what I use and what I consume is "on me and on me alone."

Additional Resources:

To Stitch a Life

July 16, 2018 Erica Huff

"Consider that wonderful world of life in which you are placed, and observe that its great rhythms of birth, growth, death-- all the things that really matter-- are not in your control. That unhurried process will go forward in its stately beauty, little affected by your anxious fuss."

from The House of the Soul and Concerning the Inner Life by Evelyn Underhill

At the beginning of this year, I found myself reflecting on the lives of those who have come, touched my life, left a mark, and have now passed. Some I never met personally but nonetheless impacted my person in the brevity of their years and the manner of their passing. Some I knew for years, were intimately involved in their lives and them in mine, watched as their health suffered then deteriorated, and was eventually left with only memories of their person instead of the shared daily rhythms of a life lived together.

To facilitate these reflections, I began stitching a ring for each year of life given each of them. Some ring cycles appeared cut short as if snuffed out before having a chance to realize one's identity or place in the larger sphere of life. Others stood dominant, clear of one's stance and mark made upon the world. Some lives appeared but as a breath; others reverberated out as a long drawn sigh. But whether fully realized or barely sketched, I'm confident of this: the impact they each made by their presence in the lives of those near and dear to them.

In this sitting for hours and hours, stitching rings, commemorating years (that, truth be told, often fly by uneventfully and mundanely), I am more aware than ever of the gift in each day. As Evelyn Underhill so eloquently states in the quote above, there is a futility in fuss and worry and there is a fragility in that which we cannot control-- namely, birth, growth, and inevitable death. There is a beauty in life's rhythms and a stately presence in the position in which we are all placed.

So then, there comes the reminder: to not lose the big picture in the distraction of the immediate. She continues, "Find out then where your treasure really is. Discern substance from accident... Don't lose your head over what perishes. Nearly everything does perish: so face the facts, don't rush after the transient and unreal. Maintain your soul in tranquil dependence on God..."

As is clear in the stitched rings of life, a year can indeed be a lifetime so why should I not aim to live as such? Each year with intention and gratitude, aware of grace and beauty, and set on tranquil dependence upon God.

And here is a video sharing my process, and my processing... with love, Erica

"Jouer"... in the Spirit of Play

June 14, 2018 Erica Huff

Maybe it's the influence of my explorative 1.5 year old. Or, perhaps it's the anticipation of welcoming the wonder of another little miracle in just a matter of months. It could also certainly be the fact that I'm married to an imaginative soul who embodies the craft of play in his own daily rhythms (and emboldens me to do the same). But, regardless of the source of inspiration, thoughts on the art of "play" have been happily dancing in my mind.

I find "play" especially intriguing because, if left unchecked, my default driving pursuit is productivity and efficiency. As a stereotypical "3" in the Enneagram chart, I love to "set goals, rise to challenges and solve problems." I have a hard time with the "being" and quickly jump to the "doing." And yet "play" is described in Dr. Stuart Brown's Ted Talk as the act of doing something for its own sake. He states, "If the purpose is more important than the act of doing it, it's probably not play."

Dr. Brown continues, "play is born by curiosity and exploration." This may be the reason my busy toddler is so good for me. I am endlessly intrigued by the seriousness of the art of play at hand: threading a straw in a cup, maneuvering the dials so the animals pop up in a line, or setting the dial just right so it's the cat that meows and not the cow that moos. All for its own sake and its own sake only. All this deserves the gravity of focused attention given it by my little girl.

And I find my day is enriched as I simply sit, watch, and learn to "be" with her. Together, playing with the stacking tree for play sake and not to correctly mount the timbers on the toy log. Or running barefoot in the grass to simply feel the blades tickle the underside of our toes. All worthy discoveries; all moments of wonder. But all lost on me if I'm consumed in task and oblivious to the gift of play.

Yes, I have a sense that I could learn a lot by watching this little girl interact with life. Learning to take the moment to stop and smell the roses along the sidewalk. Or to initiate a pause with emails by stopping to dance to a favorite song. Or to create a wonderland with forts and blankets in our living room, just because. Just because play is worth it and because of what could be lost in a day without play. Yes, the first lesson forgotten and now relearned thanks to my little girl is the Grace of "Jouer," play.

In this newfound spirit of play, I took a "serious" chair and webbed it into a dance of embroidery string and pins-- extending the wrapped embroidery floss from the back of the chair to the wall mounted piece behind it. Cause what chair needs to stay stagnant when instead it can jump off its seat onto the wall behind? I hope it can cause our days to embrace a touch of play in the midst of the routine, ordinary and mundane. Bonne Jouer!

Quoted Sources:

The History of the Making

December 29, 2017 Erica Huff

Read about our journey into "making and creating" on our archive wordpress blog. And journey with us into the world of future creations by staying tuned for upcoming posts here.