My mom has spent more than 40 years making quilts. She
started when my sister got married by making a quilt for the newlyweds. As each
of her kids got married, she made a quilt for the couple as a gift for their
wedding. She continued as each grandchild arrived, choosing unique designs, colors
and pieces for each one. And by God’s abundant grace, she continues to make
quilts for her great-grandchildren.
Her quilts are more than personal masterpieces or cloth
kaleidoscopes. They express her love and care in the most precious way as her
prayers for her family outnumber the stitches on each quilt. Her patient,
careful work is like the work of our heavenly Father who is creating something
beautiful out of our lives. She carefully lays out all the pieces and decides
how to place them in the overall design. She may rearrange them as she sees
fit. She knows what the finished product will look like. She thoughtfully
chooses the border to compliment the colors in the pattern.
As she has gotten older, her arthritis has worsened and some
days it makes it nearly impossible to quilt. However, her determination to
complete it before the great grandbaby arrives keeps her working through the
pain and stiffness.
We surprised her for her 80th birthday, adorning
the living room with her handiwork. Everyone who could make it brought their
quilt to take a picture with it and the main character. Jeremy and my brother
held up each quilt as a backdrop to the photo with my mom and the receiver
standing in front of it. I am not sure who was more grateful. The one who
received the quilt or my mom as she stood next to each one arms around their
backs and smiling. It was a joy to honor her in this way.
Our quilts are displayed on quilt racks in the corner of our
rooms, used for extra warmth on our beds and couches, and have occasionally
served as the main bedspread. When I look at them I am reminded of the lovely
mom I have. She has mourned the times she has felt inadequate as a mom and for
the times she wishes she could go back and do something differently…better. Her
quilts are a picture of how imperfection can be lovely too. They show us that
it is okay to be who we are and not always get it right. But when we display
them in our living rooms or on our beds or wrap up in their warmth, there is so
much more beauty and goodness and gratefulness. Her quilts are treasured gifts and so is my mom.
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