Patching

It was six years ago, that I pieced my first quilt (pictured above). It was for my niece’s new little baby daughter, Morgan. I remember giving her specific instructions: “Please use this quilt – don’t put it away in a closet – I made it for her to use. And when it falls apart, ship it back to me, and I’ll fix it.”

Now, these six years later, my niece, Marcie, came for a visit. She brought the quilt, because "the dog snagged it, and it needs a couple of patches."

I could hardly believe how shabby and worn the quilt had become.

The once-vibrant colours had faded. The once-plush blanket had settled into a paper-thin rag. The back was filled with holes of all sizes, and the binding should have been redone. But there would be little sense in doing the back and the binding, because the front was in almost the same condition.

It was so bad, that I told Marcie to put it in the burning barrel, and I’d make another one. But, you know how some kids are about their blankets -- Morgan wouldn’t part with it.

I found some leftover fabric in my stash, and I began to patch.

I patched. And I patched. And I patched.

It doesn’t look very pretty, but I did the best I could.

Morgan's quilt has been returned to her, and she probably cares far more about having it back than how it looks. I guess it's a good thing that it didn't go to the burning barrel (at least for now).

This patching process made me think about how everything wears out. When I looked for a picture of that quilt when it was new, I found about 35 years of pictures showing all kinds of ‘stuff’ we gathered along the way -- stuff that has long since found its way to the Thrift Shop or the burning barrel. All of our possessions get old and wear out. And we are left with only pictures and memories.

Did you know that Revelation 18 tells us that all things will burn at the end of time?

Father, thank you for supplying my needs while I am here. Thank you for the reminder that I need to hold loosely the 'things' and 'stuff' in my life, and tightly to what really matters.

"It Must Be Your Driving!"

I’m hesitant to say that I’m a quilter because when real quilters hear that, they start conversations about techniques I’ve never heard of and use words that sound like a mixture of French, Greek and Latin. Those conversations end shortly with my stammering an explanation that well, "I’m just a beginner." Truth is, I’ve been a ‘beginner’ for about 10 years – and I have yet to finish the binding on one of my first projects. I guess I’m a wannabe. I love looking at quilts, pouring over quilting patterns in magazines, hanging out a fabric stores, and eavesdropping on real quilters’ conversations. Maybe I’ll absorb some of their skill if I just stand near enough and listen closely.
I’ll never forget my first quilting class. I packed up my brand new sewing machine and newly purchased cotton, and drove the 20 miles or so to the first day of class. I had never seen a rotary cutter but thought it looked pretty slick – this would make quick work of cutting all those squares! Somehow, it didn’t work that well when I was steering it. Everyone in the class seemed to be ‘expert’ sewers; they knew all the jargon and kept up with the teacher quite handily. I was, without a doubt, the ‘slow learner’ in the class. It seemed the poor teacher was always waiting for me. (It takes a while to thread your bobbin if you have to refer to your sewing machine manual first!) Of course, I spent most of my time ripping stitches and ‘trying again’. As I ripped out a seam for the fourth time, the teacher (the most patient person I have ever met) checked my measurements. But they were right. Her only explanation for my grief was, “It must be your driving!”
Last night, I was hurrying to finish a quilt for a Christmas gift. Rather than take the time to mark the two inch squares on the diagonal, I thought I’d save time and just ‘eyeball it’. After all, I know lots of people who do that quite successfully.
Well, apparently, my ‘driving’ hasn’t improved much since that first quilting class. My stitches were wobbly, which made the edges less than crisp. My idea to save time, had the opposite effect. After ripping out the third attempt, I decided that taking time to mark each square would be a wise investment and probably result in a better product. When I had a line to follow, my driving improved immensely!
The Bible tells us in Proverbs 3:6 that when we acknowledge God in every area of our lives, He will make our paths straight. With a promise like that, I wonder why I so often find myself navigating wobbly roads.

Thank you, Father, that you love even those of us who are ‘slow learners’ and ‘bad drivers’. Help us to remember your promise to make our paths straight.