It was raining. The air was chilled, rather cold. The kind of Spring day one might find a blanket, a book, a corner, a fresh brewed cup of “Heaven’s Goodness”, and curl up and get lost in a story.
“Could you make this into a keepsake?” came the request.
The Aunt, a delightfully, warm, generous woman in her seventh decade, hands over a bag. Inside, a well used beautiful collection of fabric pieces crafted into a quilt.
I shall take a rabbit trail for just a moment, to say, I LOVE QUILTS!!!!! As silly as it sounds, they make my heart happy. I feel all warm and fuzzy inside. As a child, at the county fair, I would walk through the 4H building gawking at each of the quilts, longing to touch each and every square, each telling a story.
My love for quilts was fueled as well by the Amish. We would take trips to their stores, bakeries, and quilt shops. I dreamed of learning to make a quilt of my own.
After I married, The Husband’s Grandmother came for a visit. We had many cups of “Heaven’s Goodness” together, having good conversation as we cut, stitched and quilted my first quilt.
I suppose my love for quilts is because of what they represent: history, time shared, meaningful conversation, joy in crafting, warmth, comfort, and beauty.
I am fairly confident that the quilt The Aunt had placed the request for was not necessarily crafted for eye candy. It was a collection of random pieces sewn together; perhaps they used to be a shirt, pants, skirt, dress, or some other functional item, reworked for a functional purpose once again….a blanket….warmth.
There it was in all of its oldness and glory, some pieces more tattered than others. It was beautiful!
The request for the three keepsakes to be made out of the quilt was an order for The Aunt and her two siblings to have a piece of their family history. The quilt had once been their mother’s and even their grandmother’s. This quilt had served as warmth for over nine decades, three generations of children, grandchildren and great grandchildren.
Who would have thought piecing together old, tired shirts, skirts, dresses, and pants would provide comfort and warmth for nearly a century.
Solomon The Wise, sitting on the front porch, rocking in a rocking chair, with his grandmother’s quilt on his lap, pen in hand, coffee in the other, wrote these words, “A good man leaves an inheritance to his children’s children.” Proverbs 13:22
Inheritance is not just financial, but spiritual and emotional as well. While “re”haberdashering the old, worn, beautiful quilt into three rabbits, I began to think.
Will my life, like the quilt, a collection of pieces, be a collection of seasons? Joyous, difficult, quiet, restorative, sad, grieving, victorious all pieced together by the thread of time, bringing warmth and comfort to my children, grandchildren and great grandchildren, leaving them an inheritance. Nearly a century from now, will I be remembered for warmth and comfort, forged by the seasons that perhaps looked rough and tattered, adding texture and beauty to multiple generations? Or will I be remembered for trying to be polished, a shelf novelty only to be looked at, not being used for its’ intended purpose?
My prayer is that no matter the season, I would see it as simply another piece of history to add to the quilt of life, allowing God to use the thread of time to stitch it all together, leaving a tapestry of legacy.