The Pieces of my Quilt

by Cheryl on September 13, 2008

These are the 2 quilt tops I’ve recently pieced and embroidered (see below picture as well)… now waiting for their batting, backing, quilting, and binding. Sweet angels, and a calendar of months in Spanish.

Each quilt I spend time with is a piece of my life. I’ve found that each one holds distinct memories and prayers.

Earlier in my life, I made a quilt for each of my brothers with my mom… Jacob’s full of army colors and youth group t-shirts, Bobby’s with muted primary colors and triangles, both machine-stitched with love.

I made a rag quilt for my Gram. The blanket spilled over with hearts and plants, with pink and green, with reflections of all she had invested in me.

Soon after being married, I put together a quilt for our queen-sized bed. The fabrics are bright and hopeful – the seams are not quite straight. I was full to brim with love and dreams…

The year I spent quilting Jake and Channing’s quilt was full of prayers and tears for their future together in The Lord.

I pieced this Angel quilt top with my dear friend Angie – we attacked a new project together after being apart for a year and missing each other terribly. Then, the angels flew on a plane to Florida with Bobby and I to minister to my mom as she lost her sister.

The calendar of months has been laying in blocks for literally, months – as I embroidered each one before piecing them all together. How much of my life has been witnessed by the pieces of these quilts!?!

Recently, I came across this precious poem in a book lent to me called, “Quilts from Heaven” by Lucinda Secrest McDowell: The Pieces of my Quilt

If quilts could talk, I’d like to think I’d hear just what they’d say, “I’ll hold you close within my folds and wipe your tears away. I’ll keep you warm and give you strength to face another day.” If quilts could talk…

If quilts could sing, I’d like to think I’d recognize each tune, the lullaby or funeral dirge or wedding march in June. Both sweet and haunting melodies I’d listen to them croon. If quilts could sing…

If quilts could write, I’d like to think I’d read the words they’d pen, of life and love and motherhood, of mystery without end. And, oh, the drama they could share of everywhere they’d been. If quilts could write…

If quilts could pray, I’d like to think I’d feel each heartfelt prayer, of thankfulness or great concern for those within their care; Petitions to a loving God – the One who’s always there. If quilts could pray…

The quilt of my own life finds voice to talk, sing, write, and pray; as it weaves a hundred stories in its own eclectic way. And with each stitch of grace and hope my legacy is built – All fragments finally made a whole… the pieces of my quilt.

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