Life Stitching at the Quilting Frame

I love antique and vintage quilts!  One of my favorite quilts is a wonderful patchwork quilt in reds and whites.  A special paternal aunt gave it to me years ago.  I remember her telling me that it was made as a wedding quilt by either my great grandmother for my grandmother, or by my great great grandmother for my great grandmother.  I wish I could remember!  Whatever the case, it is a family heirloom to me.

When I look at that quilt now, I see some patches that are threadbare while others seem almost new.  Some of the reds are more faded than others.  But, for the age of the quilt, and considering that it was really a used household item, it is in remarkable condition.  I assume some of the patches were fabrics left from making garments for the family, or from clothing which children outgrew.  Some patches could have been the good part of a damaged, irrepairable shirt or dress.  Some patches are most likely from those wonderful flour sacks which women would wash and save.  Likely some of the patches were fabrics traded between the women in the quilting circle.  Wherever the fabric came from, each piece has a story to tell.  How I wish I could hear those tales from generations past!

This treasured quilt is a connection to my family.  Though it is now old and worn, at one time it was new and as perfect as a quilt can be.  The quilt is completely made by hand and I look at those tiny even stitches and marvel at the expertise and patience that is sewn into what was a common, ordinary household item.  I wonder how many tears it has absorbed.  How many giggling children it kept warm during cold, windy nights.  How many times did it offer comfort?  Or, witness grief?  Or, mourning?  Even joy?  If this quilt could be a storyteller, I wonder, what would it say? 

During my childhood, my family traveled to visit relatives who lived on farms in another state which was a very long day’s drive from our house.  If we visited during the winter, almost all my aunts had quilting frames in their living rooms.  It was this time of the year when they were not occupied with gardening and other outside chores that they had time to pursue such domestic activity.  The quilting frames were wood, and late each fall, these frames were taken from storage, assembled and installed, ready for use to put together a quilt made according to the newest pattern.  Sometimes an old, much loved and favorite pattern was used.  The frame was attached to ropes and using a pully system on the ceiling, it could be raised when not in use.  I remember always being fascinated with these frames and the quilts that were being worked on.   

Using that memory for thinking about my quilt in the process of the patches being sewn together and the entire piece being quilted,  I am amused with the imagined chatter of the ladies sitting around the quilting frame.  I can see the women and hear their conservations.  According to journal entries of women who made quilts in the 1800’s and into the 1900’s, I think that I can identify these women, no matter where they lived or who they were.  Each was an individual with special and common interests, a different personality, and various talents.  I imagine that their conversations were much the same as in similar groups of women today – home, community, children, sewing, and cooking along with illnesses, births and deaths.  Some groups included Bible study in the morning followed with lunch and then quilting.  They almost always made quilts for any brides-to-be (naturally, a wedding ring quilt) in the community or a family in need before doing quilts for themselves.

 It seems that usually there were two women who led the group; frequently one was the local preacher’s spouse who was kind and thoughtful and the other was a real organizer, both with compassion for others.  Then, there was the woman who thought she knew it all and was never without the best advise; one that gossiped about everyone and everything; one that sat silently, stitching constantly (they say her husband was a drinker);  one that possessed a sharp edge and words and one that was sweeter than honey.  There was one who wore the finest and overdressed (the banker’s wife who always had the latest Godey’s as a fashion guide from Paris); one who wore a stylish ready-made dress (the mercantile owner’s wife), and one who wore a much repaired and worn plain garment (a lazy spouse in her house).  Then, there was the rancher’s wife in her practical, good calico and the undertaker’s spouse in the drab cotton.  And, always, there seemed to be an elderly widow, loved by everyone because of her wisdom and godly ways.

In every quilting circle, there was a wide range of talent and expertise.  Usually, there was one woman was the recognized expert stitcher.  There was almost always at least one who made big, sloppy uneven stitches.  The solution to that problem was that one of the best stitchers would discreetly restitch those tacky stitches!  There were those who had good color sense, and those that seemed to be color blind.  Some who had more artistic ability than others.  To solve those issues, those with more design talent would tactfully suggest patches that were needed.  However the quilt evolved, it was a masterpiece of cooperation between women with a common goal.

These women were all shapes and sizes, young and old and inbetween (except unmarried young women couldn’t participate since they might hear something too delicate for their maiden ears!), but, irregardless of who they were, they were all women who had common interests and concerns.  Women who found that the fellowship of quilting bees, or the quilting circle, provided a much needed and appreciated social respite from the routine of household duties.

No matter who participated in the quilting circle, in some fashion, ultimately they all worked together.  The result of using their talents was a special gift for another person or family in their community, or each of them in turn, had a new, and likely needed, quilt for their own home.  I believe that most of those women thought that by gifting the quilts they made, they were serving the Lord that many of them loved and depended on.  As I muse about those quilting circles of long ago, I think that’s the way God wants us to work together in His world, for His Kingdom.

Isn’t it wonderful, amazing, and beyond understanding that God puts us all together like a patchwork quilt?  Each piece of a quilt compliments the surrounding ones,  just as each of us, individually, compliment the others.   Just as women making a quilt, each piece being a piece of the whole, God created us and put us together to work with each other.  He added colors here and there, a patch of humility scattered about, a tad of humor tucked in just the right place, a wisp of compassion, a snippet of wisdom and a square of servanthood, and in the middle of it all, He stitched securely his special design for us, His children.  And, He stitched it all together with a backing and a border of love.

I am ever in awe of God’s creation and how he loves, protects and uses us.  Just as my ancestor’s beautiful quilt, our Lord covers us with warmth, love and care.  Forever! Simply amazing!

Father God, I want to be always covered with your love, mercy and grace.   I want to understand your beauty.  My desire is to do your will.  Amen.