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| An antique quilt, one that was made with our original group and the one on the left is unfinished and made with the first group at church --yes that means unfinished for 10 years! |
Well
I have been away vacationing and I am in the
midst of a movie series at church so I thought I would write about a practice I
have brought back into my life that I can't believe I ever let go
of---quilting!
Now
I make quilts here and there but for the past 10 years or more I have been
quilting alone. There is creativity and
solitude in quilting alone, but quilting in a group, well that is something all
together different. Listening to the hum
of machines, the click clack of needles from those who knit instead, and the
tearing of fabric (yes tearing---it is how you get your straight edge) makes me
completely whole for that moment. And
there is no better place for such happenings than a church basement....oops I mean parish hall!
As
a young mom I found myself in need of an inexpensive hobby, I saw a picture of
a quilt, an applique of animals on muslin, and I made one by hand for our
daughter; a piece of this quilt is in a drawer somewhere 26 years later. Another hand stitched quilt for our son sparked
my grandmother to buy me my first machine.
Before our third son was born I was in the hospital for a month so his
was hand pieced as well. With each
arrival of a new niece or nephew quilts appeared; pinwheels, Overall Sam, appliqued hearts, Jacob's Ladder, Double Irish Chain and many more.
While
I toted our toddlers around with their quilts I met other mom's with children
wrapped in nine patch and log cabin patterned quilts and this is how I became
part of a circle of friends that have remained in my life to this day. Our first quilting group traveled from home
to home, adding and losing members as life happened. Eventually our group moved to the parish hall of our church.
As
we admired each other’s fabric and shared tricks of the trade we also shared our
lives, we talked, and we laughed and cried together. On September 20th 1999 I remember coming into
the church and learning about the Columbine school shooting, there was almost
no conversation that night but I cannot describe how comforting it felt to be
together silently working, creating and praying. It is a holy memory for me, the thought that
we were together practicing an art that many others had for generations before
us, an old tradition soothing the mind of new questions that could not be
answered.
The
women in this group helped me get through an intensive treatment for my M.S.,
we celebrated our pastor's ordination, a few of us went back to school to
finish our degrees and I learned to love Odetta from the original group! As with any group the dynamics shifted and
through no real choice of our own our meetings were put off enough that we
dissolved. School work, church work and
children's sports took over. People
moved and occasionally one or two of us would get together for a mini project
and often one of us would say "We have to get a group started again."
And
now just as the 23rd Psalm states "God restores our souls" my soul
has been restored!
I
am back quilting in the parish hall, with some of the women from our original
group and new people as well. We are
just beginning our venture together but already Monday morning is my joy and
the rest of the day is better because of it.
Why
does it take us so long to recognize something is missing?
It
is work to lug machines, though my office is holding three of them right now,
it is work to gather up cutting tools, irons and ironing boards, and it is work
to carve out time in a world that is operating at double and triple time.
Soul
searching, soul refreshing can be work but it is so worth the appearance of
still waters and green pastures.
