This morning as I was working on finishing up a quilt, I also spent time listening to a pastor that I have discovered. Her way of speaking is hard to listen to at first, but somewhere in the midst of it all I feel the power of her words. I feel hope, joy and an erasure of the fear that the "world" has worked to instill. I start actually counting my blessings and I am able to once again rejoice and feel the huge weight that is being forced down on all of us start lifting off. I feel pure love filling my soul and speaking to my spirit once again.
After listening to her, I struggle to listen to the other things, even casually, I simply don't want to hear it or be a part of it. I think that is some of what is leading me to spending more and more time alone. In peace.
I didn't end up going anywhere yesterday. Instead I loaded another of the old quilts that have lived for decades in my sewing studio unfinished. This one was created by my great-grandmother, who knows how long ago. It has been in my possession for literally decades. My great grandmother passed away in 1979, long before my children were born, long before I had even become an adult. Somewhere in the 1980's I believe it was my grandmother sent me a box of fabrics and unfinished things that my great grandmother had been working on.
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| piecing done by Mildren P. Rounds sometime prior to 1975 |
My great grandmother was incredibly talented and crafty. She was forever making things and I am actually blessed to be the keeper of a portion of her legacy. I've made a few smaller pieces over the decades. I've puttered around with the things from that magic box, but I was never willing to machine quilt the tops. I had convinced myself that they had to be completed by hand, please don't ask why, because I don't have an answer. I guess I just listened to the quilt police that insisted that vintage (at that point they were just vintage) quilts had to be quilted by hand or you would somehow tarnish the integrity of the work. Make them less than. So for decades the precious tops have languished sitting in stacks of projects to be completed at a future date and time when I had the time to sit for weeks on end carefully putting in the tiny stitches that the experts claimed were required.
Somewhere along the way, I started to mourn the love that she had put into creating those tops. Mourn the fact that they were sitting in a pile, unused and unloved, simply because I didn't have the time to finish them. I was busy doing life as we have been conditioned to do it.
Several of her tops are in that pile I am attacking at the current time. Yesterday I finally quilted one of her tops. I started to do a fancy design, and within the first 6 inches I knew that isn't how I wanted to finish the quilt. It wasn't what it was asking for, yep that sounds absolutely crazy, but I have always had a sense for how to quilt a quilt. I never plan it, it simply happens. This needed a simple meander, nothing fancy, just something efficient. It needed to be completed and used.
This morning I finished the binding. It's now waiting to be washed these tops have sat for a very long time. There are dirt marks, possibly stains now, although I hope and pray they are not permanent. Hubs keeps asking me what my plans are for these quilts. Hate to tell him, but my plan is simply to use them. To wrap myself on cold winter mornings in front of a fire, to snuggle with puppies and grand babies under and cherish the history that was so unselfishly passed down to me.
To celebrate the legacy that was given to me to protect and pass forward. Do I know if my kids will love and cherish them when I am gone? I have absolutely no idea, I may leave them for someone else. They skipped a few generations in coming to me, maybe that is what will happen to them when that time comes. Maybe that legacy isn't something my own children will carry forward, neither of them have my passion for quilts. My boy used to love sleeping under one when he was younger, I don't know how the grown man feels about them now. That isn't what I am focusing on at this time. At this time, I am cherishing the gifts that were given to me.
I need to go an purchase the backing material for the next quilt, which is why I haven't started it yet. Or I am fairly positive that I would be down at the longarm already. The next one is also one of my great grandmother's it is a series of sailboats in a multitude of colors. I am not sure if I will use a simple white or something that will tie into a color on the front, I guess I will decide that once I head to the store. Initially, I was drawn to the white, but the more I have looked at it, the stronger the feeling to do a color that will compliment the boats. There is no sashing on this one, it is simply white with sailboats. Who knows, I will figure it out when the time is right.
It feels so amazing to be completing so many unfinished things. I hadn't realized how much their unfinished state was bothering me. I feel like I am in a frenzy to complete them, to finally give them life. I'm weird, I know.
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| a rare still photo of sweet Belle peaking up from her favorite corner of the man cave sofa |
I have a bad habit though, when I get engrossed in something, I tend to ignore the rest of life. So today I am actually forcing myself to do some of my other tasks. Washing up the remaining laundry, it has nothing to do with the quilts I want to wash, I promise (she says with her fingers crossed to prevent it from being a lie). I am cleaning the kitchen and planning my next canning sessions. At some point in my life I will function as a normal human, not someone that becomes so manic about different projects. I just don't know when that time will be.
I am so very blessed in life. God has held me in his loving embrace and provided so much that I didn't know I needed. That I didn't realize was there, until I paused to reflect. It's September 1st, a year ago I was still struggling to be able to get out of bed and live my life fully. I was four weeks out from a surgery I had dreaded and celebrated at the same time. Today, I almost run up and down stairs, I chase puppies, I bend at the knees to pick things up from the floor. There are many times now that I forget completely the surgery that improved my life, it's like it never happened. There are still moments I am reminded that it did, where the tinge of pain from pushing it a touch too far will remind me, or I see the scar. For the most part, I simply forget.
I never forget to thank God for the blessings he has showered me with, although sometimes I don't acknowledge it out loud. Mostly out of fear of offending someone else. I'm tired of that. If it offends you, don't listen. It offends me that I have to watch my words and feelings so much. I am so thankful for the life I have, for the blessings that abound, for the joy and happiness that I have in this life. I'm choosing to walk in faith, to celebrate my God who provided it all, and to know that even though things are being painted with darkness and fear that there is no reason to feel those things, because they are an illusion.
Well... I guess I should go do some of those other "chores" and get my home in order. It felt amazing to tidy the upper floor this morning, so I know that I need to do the rest of it. Besides the fabric store isn't open for an hour yet... I see sailboats in my near future.
love and prayers... and oh yeah... count your blessings - the peace it brings is incredible!
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