Tapestry of my Life

Whenever I rode my bike down to my best friend Debbie's house as a kid, her mom invariably answered the door, yelled, "Debbie!", then returned to whatever chore was at hand.  There were delicious days in February or March when she made donuts on Fasnacht Day, or days the aromas of homemade spaghetti sauce wafted through the entire house. Just thinking of her cooking skills makes me wonder when Fasnacht Day falls this year!
Invariably, though, she was seated in their family room working on her current project, a masterpiece in the form of a quilt. All the beds in their house had them, and I fell in love with the colors, patterns, and homey feel of the bedding she created. They were amazing. 
Since that time I was given my first quilt, one made from the remnants of wardrobes worn by the Mennonite family who owned our farm before us. It covered my bed through high school, and went to college with me, where it was carefully folded at the end of my bed.  After college my love and appreciation of quilts continued as I purchased factory made replicas, that didn't have the heart and soul of the handmade ones Debbie's mom created. She was an artist.
I had the great fortune to have a very special family move in next to us when my children were small. They became our best friends. One of the greatest gifts given to me by my friend Susan was the gift of quilting. She taught me the basics, took me to her favorite quilt supply stores, and had me envisioning original patterns I wanted to create for the beds of my own children.
My not-so-nimble fingers worked until they ached stitching fabric scraps into colorful quilts, made with blood, sweat, and tears....literally.  I believe there is a small blood stain on my daughter's quilt where the needle pricked my finger. As they have grown, the quilts have been moved from beds to quilt racks, to closets, depending on the current color scheme of their respective bedrooms. Now that I have artistic control of their rooms once again, the quilts have resurfaced. It bothers me not the least that they are not currently in use.  I know that, as the years go by and my hands can no longer create these works of beauty, that my children each have their own special quilt. Made by Mum, and stitched with love to survive generations of use.

I have been contemplating taking up my needle and thread again, as I have come across unfinished blocks and half done pieces that beckon to me.  On display in my family room are three of four blocks that cry out to be joined together. For now, they will need to yell a little louder though, because I like the effect they have as unfinished pieces.

Up close and personal. Design stitched by another quilter, and given to me in a quilt block exchange. Four of us made four blocks each, keeping one of our own and exchanging the others, thanks to my quilt mentor Susan.

The block at the right was my design and handiwork.           
SOMEDAY they will all be united, but for today,
I will enjoy the uniqueness of each individual square.

A warm country hug to all,
Lisa <3