I mean, I tell the stories of how I sewed “fig leaves” to cover my shame just like Eve did. Though it wasn’t actually leaves — I sewed and sewed and sewed a “costume” to cover the shame I always felt inside.

On my first day of first grade I encountered rejection by a little girl. Her hair was blonde like mine. I wanted her to be my friend. Miss Grossman had greeted me at the door and told me I could sit anywhere.

I eyed my open seat.

My eyes landed on her — remembering what mama had said to dispel the possible separation anxiety I might feel, “You’ll meet new friends.” So, when I saw her, I just knew she was going to be my friend.

Not long after sitting down, another little girl walked over and stood by us. My new friend turned around and asked me to move so her “other” friend could sit in my spot.

I said, “no.” (Because I already had plans for this friendship!)

But over time I realized that she was not going to be my friend unless I moved.

So I did.

And then she was nice to me.

And I learned that to have friends, I needed to do what people wanted me to do.

I started sewing.

And my fig leaves looked a lot like “People pleasing” . . . And “performance” . . . And “perfectionism.”

I sewed and I sewed and I sewed. I felt rejection often — felt left out. So I tried hard to find out what might make people love me. I sewed some more.

Never once in my five or six or seven or eight year old mind did I attribute my challenge to have friends with my lack of time or the distance of my country living life.

I was a firstborn. Of necessity, a hard-working farm-girl. I didn’t get to play after school, I had to do chores. I didn’t get to participate in sports or watch 7:00 TV or hang out at friend’s houses.



I went home after school. I had my short date with Gilligan on his Island, and with the Brady Bunch of kids before heading out to the barn. There, I fed the cows with my sisters, and scraped their poop into the gutter. I sprinkled ground up lime-rock on the barn floor so that after supper when we milked the cows, the barn floors would be clean.

It wasn’t until I was 35 and deep in the pit of anxiety that my mind was drawn back to my early years. I needed to find out where I had gone wrong.

I can only attribute the jarring of the memory and it’s significance to the Holy Spirit — The scene came flooding back and I knew it held some key to understanding the thinking that had landed me in the doctor’s office that year.

I told him the story and he looked at me as if I were more than confused. (Adding to my shame.)

I’d lost 25 lbs from not sleeping, and had finally given in to the pleas of others to go to the doctor. Even though I knew he couldn’t fix me

.

He read my fear of meds and I left with a prescription for the smallest dose, 50mg of Zoloft. Up until that day, I was convinced God would reject me if I took drugs. But I was desperate.

I went to a counselor a week or two later. But when he told me he couldn’t’ fix me overnight (as if I was asking him to) I felt more shamed and never returned.

I read my Bible sometimes for three hours before starting my day. I was so desperate for an answer and I knew Who had it.

I also read parenting books to figure myself out. I read the book “Hide or Seek” by Dr. Dobson — and I learned about myself.

I read “Captivating” by Staci Eldridge and learned about what God thought of me.

I re-read “The Confident Woman, Knowing Who You Are In Christ” by Anabele Gilham and learned how I put the cart before the horse and relied on unreliable things.

Over the course of time, I came to understand that I’d fallen into the pit of anxiety because I was spinning myself crazy to be perfect and please people and perform for love.

I was sewing fig leaves to cover my shame and sewed myself into a ditch.

Instead of allowing the love of God to fill and cover me, I’d been seeking to make myself lovable — and I toppled into a pile of dust.

That is what happens to leaves when you pluck them from the tree. They disintegrate and you have to keep plucking leaves and keep sewing and sewing and sewing.



It’s really exhausting.

Thoughts are powerful. When I think I am in(fear)ior, I feel fear. When I feel fear, my body responds. You know, in case I need to run from someone who wants to kill me.

But when sewing fig-leaves for love, it’s not that someone is out to kill me, it’s that someone might reject me and prove my shame to be true. To let it have the last word.

I felt it in my bones — I was lacking whatever others had that made them lovable.

What I didn’t realize at the time was that the entire human race is born in the same condition as me — feeling lack — experiencing shame — needing a covering.

Because only our Daddy can fix our shame.

When Adam and Eve believed the serpent, they severed connection to the One True Love.



God is holy. When sin came, so did shame. Only holy can be united with holy. He needed to have a rescue plan. He killed the first animal to give them a covering that wouldn’t disintegrate. The covering that held up enabling them to rest from sewing was provided by their Daddy.

Perfect love drives out fear. The one who fears is not made perfect in love — 1 John 4:18 tells me that. How do I get the perfect love? I want to be free of fear!

Faith comes by hearing and hearing by the word of God. Romans 10:17



Believe — Believe on the Lord Jesus and you will be saved. Believe the truth of His love and you will be set free. I know these words. How do I get them? (Acts 16:31; John 8:32)

When I feared falling back, I cried out to Him, “Help!”

He replied, “Kathy, just keep holding my hand.”



I knew He meant keep meeting me and reading my word. “Abide in Me” — I am the Living Word, the Bread of Life, eat and be satisfied in My love.

True to His promise, His love has set me free from shame.

He — HE — is the Perfect one. He is the Lamb of God who takes away my sin and the sin of the world.

He took my unbelief and my sin of self-reliance — my propensity to sew fig leaves to cover myself instead of turning to Him for the once-for-all covering.

He will do whatever it takes to free His children. He is and He always will be my Savior and my God.



When I am afraid, I will trust in Him. Psalm 56:3

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