Back in the house finishing up a few more chores, the masks caught my eye through the glass door. Shaking my head, I sighed at how much life has changed for us this year. It wasn’t that long ago it would have seemed ridiculous to have a bunch of masks drying in the sun.
Wash day is pretty simple with just two of us. And because we live a simple lifestyle, we generally have only two piles to contend with: clothes and bedding/towels.
But now we have a third pile: masks. And I’m not about to toss them in with everything else. Most have been created and sewn by friends and they hold great meaning to me. I just don’t want to chance anything happening to them if mixed in with the general laundry.
The effort began.
Today you can buy masks anywhere, but in those early pandemic days, paper masks quickly sold out and the internet was not yet playing tutorial after tutorial on how to make them yourself. So, people dusted off their sewing machines and started experimenting. They shared ideas and materials with others. They formed assembly lines. Many worked hours trying to make enough to supply to their family, friends, and neighbors. Most were not asking for anything in return except donations of more materials.
We collected bread twist ties to be used for the shapeable nose pieces. Any material you had in a back-room drawer was donated. And the hunt was on for elastic. All of a sudden there was no elastic so the needs were posted on Facebook as more donations poured in. In our community, people came together to ensure everyone had at least one mask. One neighbor put a table outside her house with a pile of masks stating they were free for residents.
Doctors’ offices were out of masks as well. I remember when a woman came in without one. She was one of three adults in her household, all with compromised health issues. And she was frantic to find one for each person. I don’t sew, but thinking about the mask I was wearing, I volunteered to get her three. Since she came weekly, I wrote down her name and told her they would be there when she had her next appointment. And they were. Not because of me, but because of the giving nature of my friend. Despite all the other people she was sewing masks for, she made three more for these strangers.
Soon after that, my friend and many others, became part of a large volunteer team from our church. Together they made thousands of masks for the community, including very special ones for every graduating high school senior.
They have meaning.
My masks are many and diverse at this point. I have a few from the insurance company and some that our county provided but all the others were sewn by someone I love. Every single one of them has meaning and is precious to me. They remind me of God and His protection both directly and indirectly through others. And they remind me that I am loved and cared for by friends…people who don’t have to love me, but who have chosen to love me. And who demonstrate that love in oh so many ways. Masks included.