More Than a Quilt

This shouldn’t come as a shock to you.  I love to quilt.  There’s just something about hunting for the perfect fabric, creating a palette of colors and patterns, designing, planning, cutting, and sewing.  There is an excitement in dropping it off at the quilters and starting a new project while waiting for that one to get done.  My quilter is amazing and we always have great chats about life, love, kids, struggles, and joys.  I take the quilt home and if I’m lucky, I’ll have the time to sew on the binding and start the process of hand sewing the finished edges.  Most of my quilts are queen-size so that’s between 1, 500 and 2,000 hand stitches to finish the project.  I admit that on more than one occasion, I have sat at the sewing machine long after my back has said to quit.  There have been times that I have stayed up way too late on a school night because I just had to finish the last few stitches. This is all great, but the quilts mean so much more.

I remember a Christmas when I was 7 or 8 and my grandma gave me a quilt that she had made.  It was pink, and soft, and contained fabric that was leftover from other things she had made.  As an adult, she made a quilt for my husband and me and subsequently, one for each of my children.  I don’t recall my mother quilting very much, but I do remember watching her sew and learning how to make clothes for my dolls.  It seems that fabric, needle and thread have always been a part of my life.  I started to quilt a little when I was college.  For a project in a Textiles class, I made a friendship quilt for my friend, Kelly.  We lost contact for many years after college, but reconnected on Facebook.  In one of our early conversations she told me that she still had the quilt and had told her children the story behind it. Most of my sewing during that time and for several years after was clothing or craft items.  I was able to fulfill a dream by designing and making my wedding dress.  Then the quilting bug hit.  I fell in love with the process and life has never been the same. 

It’s so much more than the process though.  Each quilt has a story behind it.  It may be just the fabric bringing back a memory of Dan happily going to fabric stores with me because he loved the way that my eyes would light up and then the pride that he had in me as I completed each one.  Even now, a few tears fall when I complete a quilt because I miss him so much.  Maybe it’s the quilt that I made while I was recovering from surgery.  I wasn’t supposed to go up and down stairs for 6 weeks so Dan moved my sewing machine to the living room.  I was able to complete about half of a block and then I needed a nap.  When I look at Christmas Star, I think of how much he cared for me.  Maybe it’s the flannel log cabin quilt that I made in secret for Dan and gave to him for Christmas one year.  Every stitch was worth it when I saw the joy on his face. Maybe it’s the Teal Chain made from fabric that I purchased knowing that part of the money would be used for cancer research.  Maybe it’s the jean quilt that also contains remnants of fabric that I used over the years when I made boxers and pajama pants for my kids and daughters-in-law.  Maybe it’s the True Lovers Knot quilt that I made to honor my parents for their 50^th anniversary.  Maybe it's the quilts that I have made for each of my children and grandchildren, each one with the pattern and fabric chosen specifically for them.

 I think I’m at about 50 quilts now.  I hope that someday, someone will look at the quilts and know that there is a story in every stitch.