The Gift of Quilting

The Gift of Quilting

Being raised in Pennsylvania Dutch country, I had always been in awe of the colorful quilts that hung on the carefully maintained farm wash-lines hung next to the dark colored garments worn by the Amish. The tourist shops, recognizing the value of these creations, placed a high price on the hand-made works of art. Some stores and auction houses required gloves to handle the quilts when examining the exact stiches and carefully mitered corners. Stories of quilting bees were fascinating but, not being Amish, I never attended such a gathering.

I am a Jack-of-all-trades kind of crafter. I’ve tackled anything from pottery and stained-glass to needlepoint and knitting, often making amateurish items that would be “enjoyed” only as knick-knacks in my home. I made attempts to connect with those who had similar interests, often discovering that the time commitment required for completing projects or perfecting skills was problematic, especially when working full-time and raising children.

Upon retirement, my husband and I moved to a smaller home to enjoy a slower-paced lifestyle. As I started to connect with our new location, a desire to connect with other crafters became an interesting challenge. During my search, I became acquainted with a small group of women who worked to create quilts to distribute to the homeless. The machine-quilted projects provided beauty as well as warmth for those individuals who needed to feel valued. Fabric pieces of various sizes, colors, and patterns were generously donated by members of the community who had fabric “squirreled-away” in closets or were unwanted parts of estates. The quilting group met weekly to work on quilting projects.

Accepted with open arms, I was encouraged to choose colors from a fabric scrap bin and piece a quilt top. I had seen quilts, I had even attended a quilting seminar, but was overwhelmed by the prospect of actually sewing tiny scraps of fabric together to make a quilt top. I poured through quilting books, looking for beginner patterns, slaving over each seam, searching for perfection. After fretting and complaining about my minimal skill level and the imperfections I could clearly see in my first quilt top, one of the seasoned quilters assured that these quilts were not intended to be works of art, they were intended to provide warmth and to show a person without hope that they were loved. As our sewing machines hummed along, we were not creating colorful bed coverings, we were sewing a snug, fabric hug for someone who desperately needed to be encouraged. Perfect seams, perfect stitches, perfect corners were allowed, but not required.

The first time I attended a local food distribution day, open to any community member with a need for food assistance, I was overwhelmed by the atmosphere of hopelessness and helplessness of those who came to receive the donated food items. To make the food distribution manageable, numbers were randomly distributed and small groups of people began to collect the food items as their numbers were called. Many who received food were grateful, but over-whelmed by a sense of embarrassment, felt a need to explain why they had a need and emphasized past successes. Others, who had participated in many food distributions simply trudged quietly though the line. A few, disgruntled by the unfairness of life, complained openly about the variety or quantity of food available.

The quilt, to be given away, was shown to those who came for food, and when it was announced that the quilt was a door prize for someone who came to the food distribution, an atmosphere of hopefulness and excitement filled the room. When the winning number was called, the celebratory response was nearly tangible. The tenderness, carefulness, and appreciation that accompanied the receipt of the quilt was much more valuable than any monetary receipt.

I realized, with a sigh, that hours of cutting, arranging, and sewing fabric passed though the exit door, perhaps in the arms of someone who may never understand the time commitment for the creation of a quilt. Truly a gift of love. For me and for the other members of the small quilting group, the gift of freedom to create without boundaries, not because of the value of the completed project, but because of the joy it brings to someone else, makes each quilt uniquely beautiful and creates a sense of satisfaction, peace, and camaraderie in that small group of caring, creative women.