Stitching Through Time

Here’s this week’s reflection. I hope it resonates with you and ask that, if you enjoyed, please comment and share on your social media. Heartfelt thanks for all your support!

Keeping the light on for you,

Carol

“I’d be happy to fix your quilt for you!” I heard myself say roughly eleven years ago, completely clueless as to what I had gotten myself into. What I did know was this enormously sentimental bed covering chronicled several generations of a family, stitched together as one. 

I was especially moved since the gal asking for the repair, Megan, was not a grand dame like me, but only in her early 30’s then, and cherished this heirloom as the priceless object that it was. Feeling honored to not only be trusted with its (albeit temporary) possession, but to also have a small part in its continued journey, my eager heart said yes before logic could smack me.

Three hundred and forty squares of the past would turn out to kick my rear. A plethora of unraveled seams, my work was clearly cut out for me, no pun intended. Little did I know how much of a living metaphor this textile would come to represent. 

Undaunted (and still delusional), I dove in with a vengeance. Examining one area and determining it unable to withstand further use led to the discovery of yet another, and another still, until I realized the entire bed-sized spread needed an overhaul. 

Never having extensively reworked a quilt before, I was clearly in over my head. I researched, fussed, and vowed to keep my word to eventually present it back to Megan with enough fortitude to survive many more years of affection and daily use.

Completely disassembled, I began the tedious work of resizing each block to offer strong fresh seam allowances, sans the frays of time. Each bright section told a tale; shirts, housecoats, and who knows what else were aligned in the amalgamation of family. Each successive lineage offered their time capsule via fabric; a different story every few rows. Thought to be discordant by other quilters, I saw something very different. I saw love, kinship, and outright fun. 

Polka dots, stripes, florals, plaids, and solids all played together nicely in this sandbox. The kitschier cloths made me smile. Perhaps considered garish by some, their vivid retro colors and patterns melded right into the groovy vibe. 

A few blocks had completely disintegrated, and, as Megan and I shopped for substitutes, we entered a kaleidoscopic playground of proposals. While a photo of the original helped guide restoration, the unique personality of the current owner was now represented in the mix.

Despite its joys, this quilt would take up residence in my sewing room as a UFO (“UnFinished Object” in quiltspeak) as life frequently got in the way. When finding the free time to sew, I would lament over this project’s tedium, feeling progressively guilty as to how long it had already been in my care and overwhelmed as to the work it still required. 

But Megan continued to trust me implicitly. She not only believed in my abilities, but also in my shared passion for something so meaningful, resolute it was in the right hands for such important alterations and inching me forward through the ugly duckling phases of revision and reassembly.  

Now in its finishing stages, I smile every time I look at it, and not simply because it is near completion. The addition of colorful borders offers a fresh cohesiveness and makes the quilt sing a new octave; extra underlayment bolsters support for the next long haul. 

Texting back and forth with questions and pictures during the entire process has reinforced both Megan’s delight and my satisfaction at how this project of love has bloomed in front of us. 

An explosion of color and emotion will again offer warmth on many levels to one incredibly patient young lady who I will never forget; a young woman who values sentiment and appreciates the past in our modern, disposable world. Someone brave enough to be a bit countercultural and display family treasures despite trends.  

I am intensely grateful nostalgia can still raise a youthful hand, that my still-nimble fingers were able to breathe life into a once-tired piece of the past, and that I indeed possessed the creative chops and perseverance to complete something so complex. A lesson in patience, this piece also stoked my creative freedom, helping a few more “rules” out the door as to how a perfectionist manipulates color and pattern.

Throughout this lengthy endeavor, Megan and I have lived through our own separate frazzled seams and shifting pieces. And are stitched back together stronger. Through tenderness and respect for the past, an unsuspecting collaboration has resulted in fresh perspectives and also produced a keepsake to behold which will soon gracefully cover a young lady’s bed in her newly purchased vintage home. Sweet dreams, my dear.