Piecing it Together

This picture came from About.com's gallery of scrap quilts, and the quilt and picture were made by Momof11 (!). She calls the quilt "Flowers for Laurie". Credit where credit is due!



Just lately, I have been revisiting my recurring passion for quilting. I have dusted off some unfinished projects, and assembled materials for some new ones. I crave the feeling of fabric in my hands, the precision of setting the pieces (not always as precise as I'd like it to be), the interplay of color and shape. I drink in images of the work of quilters who are more accomplished than I. I wander through fabric stores savoring the richness of color and texture on display.

Quilting, like drawing, crochet, cross stitch, playing music, reading, and writing, sits in my closet of dusty passions a lot of the time simply because the projects I have conceived to this point would take longer to complete than I have to live. But from time to time, each of my passions will call to me. There is always a reason.

The art of quilting was born of frugality and necessity. By piecing together scraps of outworn clothing, brightly colored feed sacks, and whatever else came to hand, a blanket could be made that was large enough to be useful. The multiple layers provided warmth. A quilt could be plain, or even homely, and be serviceable, but our foremothers put their creative spirits into arranging the pieces so the quilts were not just warm, but beautiful and meaningful. The traditional patterns -- Birds in the Air, Path Through the Woods, Churn Dash, Log Cabin, Cross and Crown -- represented familiar objects, moments in time, ideas, and elements of faith. The careful choice of color, distinction between figure and ground, the precision of the piecing, and the skill and craftsmanship with which the pattern was pieced and the stitches were taken turned something ordinary into something stunningly beautiful. Each stitch and each scrap of fabric contributed to the meaning and the pattern.

During one of my early morning discussions with my Father, it became clear to me why quilting has spoken to me just lately. My life right now is an assembly of bits and pieces : faith, family, the farm, school, the horses, community organizations, dividing my time and emotional energy between two households, the need to create, the need to be still and listen. Each scrap is rich in color and has a part to play in the bigger picture. But with the start of the new school year, the pieces seem to be smaller and more oddly shaped, and the fragmentation becomes more apparent. The question is, what am I going to make of it all? Something chaotic and unrealized? Something clumsy and plain, but serviceable? Or something carefully crafted to be meaningful and beautiful?

The works of talented quilters, like the lives of the Saints, point the way to the discipline, the love, the craftsmanship, and the artistry to make something warm, colorful, orderly, and unique from my pile of scraps. I pray for the vision to see the pattern, the commitment to cut and piece the elements precisely, and the patience to take each stitch with care.