Mom And Quilts.

Mom seemed to have a sense of urgency to gets Margaret's quilt finished.

It was still months until the wedding, But she was happy to have all the help she could get with the quilt.

More quickly than I thought possible, The quilt was finished, bound, And tucked away as the focus turned to sew dresses for the grandkids and bridesmaids.

I loved having her at my house as we puzzled over what size of dress to make for who, How to adjust this pattern or that one, Cutting, Sewing, Picking out seams, Ironing , And admiring the work in progress.

As I saw mom move a little slower and sleep in a little later, I was almost shocked to think that maybe she was actually getting older.

She could always run circles around all of her six daughters and one son.

Some of my earliest recollections from my childhood were of playing under a quilt set up on frames, Which for us, made a great fort or play house.

We played while listening to the visiting of the grownups.

Sometimes it was at our house, other times at one of my grandma's homes.

In fact, quite often, my grandmas would be found quilting on each other's quilts.

We lived next door to Dad's parents and Mom and her mother-in-law were the best of friends.

As we played under the quilts, Only occasionally were we scolded when we bumped the frames, nearly knocking the quilt over.

I am sure that more than once we were the cause of pricked and sore fingers.

As I grew up, my desires to join the circle of quilters grew, And mom always found a place where I could help until my stitches became a bit more acceptable.

I never could equal Mom's stitches, even though I got pretty good.

People would see her hand quilting and think it must have been done on the sewing machine.

But she never felt she was too good to let anyone try their hand at quilting.

She was always willing to pull up another chair and let someone new join the conversation and love that was shared as the quilting was done.

In fact, she was very proud of the big stitches that were sewn into quilts by her grandchildren.

She was so pleased that they wanted to join the fun and learn the art she loved so much.

As both of my grandmothers passed away, Mom took on the tradition and task of making a quilt for the wedding of each grandchild, Which she continued to do for so many years.

Mom not only quilted but if she heard of someone needing a quilt right away, She would piece one together and tie it.

I remember one Summer day we tied four or five quilts for her niece whose children were in need of some blankets.

What fun it was as we worked together, Laughing and talking as we tied the day away.

She spent a week one summer with two of my girls, Teaching them how to piece a quilt and then coming to our home to help us quilt them.

She quilted baby quilts for babies who didn't have a grandma to quilt one for them.

She would quilt alone if there was no one to help, And although I never found anyone could equal her stitches, She always preferred to have as many as possible sitting around the quilt with her.

Little did we know as we quilted on Margaret's quilt (who was the last of her six daughters) that she would barely live to see her married.

She was diagnosed with cancer easter weekend and passed away six weeks later on Mother's Day, A couple of weeks after the wedding.

As I wandered around my childhood home after the funeral, I was surprised to see that she did not have many quilts around the house.

Even her favourites which had taken months to piece together and many more hundreds of hours to quilt had been lovingly given away.

I began to realize as people shared their condolences that there were hundreds who had been the recipient of Mom's love of quilting, Either through having the privilege of spending time sitting around her frames and quilting with her Or by being wrapped in her warmth and love of the actual quilt.

I was lucky enough to have been blest by both.

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The common activity of not just quilting, But quilting together, The mother with her daughters and loved ones, Was the difference. This is a great example of the allegory of the oxen pull. The mother, daughter and grandmothers may have been generations apart, but their strength of character and relationship was equal. Like the oxen, they heard the voice of the trainer—love. Over the years the voice of love was clear, near, and oh so familiar. They were yoked and tied together through quilts, for life, and beyond.

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