Labors of Love - Quilts from the Heart

The Why Quilts Matter post went live today - here is the link!    

February is the month for giving and receiving expressions of love.  Mothers, fathers, friends and dear ones all given love tokens in a variety of shapes, sizes, colors, mediums, and all-important flavors of chocolate.I have always considered quilts to be among the greatest expression of love but only recently have I fully appreciated the depth and scope of their significance. Quilts I made over the past 20 years have been displayed in homes, been unfolded, used, refolded, comforted babies, warmed bodies and family pets, all the time witnessing and absorbing the history of their lives, the growth of their children, the pack-up-and-moves to new cities.
Baby quilts are always a satisfying labor of love. I have a nephew who was so desperately attached to the shredded remnants of his baby quilt and a receiving blanket that he loved to bits (literally) and squeezed them into a ball of shreds. He tucked it up inside his pillowcase (so no one would know) and held on to it well in to his early teens. Mom was insistent the baby quilts she made for her  grandchildren be used and washed, and was keenly pleased to see how long her grandson held on to the quilt she made just for him.
My favorite baby quilt was one made by my mother when Joe and I were newly married and confidently planning a family.  Fate intervened and no babies ever came. The quilt was always in our bedroom, draped over a quilt holder for about 20 years.  When my god-daughter had her first child I decided it was time to let go of that quilt and find it a home with Mom's new great-grandson.  The emotions surrounding the giving and receiving of that quilt cannot be expressed in words.  For me it defined a four-generation gift of love in so many ways, with both a melancholy ache and tears of joy.

Quilts are visual and tactile manifestations of love.  Who hasn't been sick and wrapped up in a quilt and felt just a little bit better, or at least comforted? When missing my Mom overwhelms me I grab a quilt she made and roll myself up, inhale the fabric and trace my finger over her carefully hand quilted stitches, taking to her and feeling a bit of her presence in my needy soul. So many pioneer brides crossed the frontier with a signature quilt packed among her belongings, a physical reminder of home and loved ones she might never see again.  How cherished those quilts must have been even as they were pressed into service warming bodies or blocking sod house drafts and windows with non existent-glass.

[caption id="attachment_2354" align="aligncenter" width="467" caption="A heart Mom made for me, on my design wall."][/caption]

In the late 70’s, when my Grandma Major (Dad’s mother) was in the nursing home, my mother made her a lap quilt out of scraps of our old dresses and pantsuits. We still have the precious keepsake and it was covering Dad the night he left us. While Mom was waiting for him on the other side, a quilt she originally made for his mother was keeping him warm.

The Family Quilt

At both of their funerals the double wedding ring anniversary quilt made by their three daughters covered their caskets with beauty and love.

I invite you to look back over the years and inventory the quilts you have seen, given, been given or were just privileged to see in a show or exhibit. Every one of those quilts matter - every one that you or I or anyone has ever made, regardless of shape, size, color or intricacy.  No such labor of love should be judged anything but the most wonderful gift from the heart. It blesses both the giver and the recipient with the greatest gift of all -- a colorful, tactile and enduring expression of love.  When the flowers have faded and the chocolate a memory, the quilt endures as a lasting and constant assurance of true love. Happy Valentines Day – to you and to all you love.

NOTE:
I was asked to write a guest blog for Why Quilts Matter and the above entry  was the result.  Why Quilts Matter is a scholarly, entertaining and visually stunning DVD. A copy should be in the home of anyone who loves art, color, and beautiful quilts. I do not in any way benefit monetarily from this - I just believe in it, and as one who loves art, color and beautiful quilts I bought two copies and donated one to my local library. Do the same. RESPECT and support for quilting begins with each of us.

Make Valentine's Day About Them

Since my Bernina is STILL being repaired  I threw in the towel and acknowledged the existence of housework.

Sunday afternoon I was watching TV and  cleaning up the kitchen when a Hallmark commercial came on and announced something like,  "This Valentines Day, it's not about I love you - it's about I love US."  Luckily I had an empty stomach and was able to suppress an urge to vomit.  I have major issues with Hallmark (details on request) mostly about how they shafted the thousands of women who made them what they are.... but I digress.   I get a little up in my head about Valentines Day, not so much for who we remember - but  about those we overlook or forget. These are the people who really spelled it out and gave us a living example of what real love means. I would like to tell you about a couple of mine.

These four women are the McGill sisters. Three of them (including my Mom, wearing Valentine fuchsia!) are no longer with us, and we had a scare with Aunt Addie this past weekend. She is thankfully home and on the mend, but it got me to thinking.  When my Mom was in her early 20's  she gave birth to a baby girl who did not live for  more than a couple of hours.  Her older sister, my Aunt Helen, was a nurse - and she wrapped up baby Mary, put her in a small box,  put on her coat and carried her down the street to the mortuary. (Aunt Helen later told  me she did it  because she couldn't bear the thought of anyone else but family touching that baby.)  My Aunt Addie (also a nurse) stayed with Mom and Dad.  Can you imagine that?  Can you imagine what it would take to do any one of those things?   I've always sent a Valentine to Aunt Addie - and not because she is all I have left of these four wondrous women and I just love her to pieces. I also honor her for what she represents - lessons of unconditional love and support.  These  four  women overwhelm me with their incredible strength and resilience.

Now meet  John and Emma Major, my paternal grandparents.  They have been gone a long time but every time I look at this picture of them it makes my eyes fill up.  They lived on a farm with no electricity for much of their lives.  Grandma gave birth to five children at home in the same bed they were conceived in.   Severe arthritis sent her to a wheelchair in her 50's.  Grandpa was the caretaker.  Tough sledding, huh. They are shown here on their 50th anniversary - and just look at how they still looked at each other.  We should all be so lucky.  Grandpa died first, and Grandma always said she wanted to die on a holiday because  "her mother died on Easter and that was a joyful day to meet your Lord."  Grandma died on Valentines Day.   While at first  it broke my heart,  I had a wise and loving sister-in-law who observed, "What better day for her Lord to reunite her with the love of her life?"

That's the kind of love I am talking about.  Not just the love we have for our significant others or our children, but for the people who gave us a living example of what it takes to meet the real demands of love.  We all have neighbors, acquaintances,  teachers or relatives who taught us great lessons about love. I'm even tempted to send a Valentine to Mark Kelley, the stand-up, gusty, loving husband of Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords. We all know  it is easy to love when things are good.  It is when things get tough, or ugly, or scary  that real love manifests itself.  I am thankful to have had such wondrous examples in my life.

Sent a note or a card or a flower or make a phone call to those who schooled you in love.  Raise a glass to those gone before us.   Open up that circle of who is or isn't a Valentine in your life and you will quickly  realize you are surrounded by them.  Make  this Valentine's Day about them.

PS - At some point this week either you or someone you know will say,  "I don't need a fake holiday for me to tell people I love them, or take them out to dinner, or buy them a card and say what is in my heart."  Oh yeah?  Go ahead and throw a bullshit flag and call their bluff.   It  does not need to involve a purchase or a night out, but it does need to happen.

Happy Valentines Day, Grandma!

I'm a little weary of the Valentines Day haters - those who whine and complain, say it is a holiday made up by card companies, that kind of thing.  ( It is remarkable to me that the same people who hate on this holiday will go to the time, extent, trouble and yes - spend money - sending anti-Valentines Day sentiments. Whassup with that?)

Yesterday at work, a man took a Valentine card off the rack and said to his wife, "Here, this is a Valentine for you. Now I'm going to put it back on the rack!"  He was serious.  I shook my head and thought, "oh boy, aren't you a treasure...."  Of course it isn't about if or  how much you spend, or mandatory card & gift giving. You celebrate  it because you want to, not because you have to.  And before I hear one more time - "Oh, I show my love every day,  I don't need a holiday to force me, " I say well, stupid, you are SUPPOSED to show it every day.  Some days that is more of a challenge than other days, as anyone who has been in a relationship of any kind lasting longer than 15 minutes can tell you.

My Grandma Emma died on Valentines Day many years ago, and it was perfect.  Let me explain - she was a very simple woman, who conceived and bore her children in the same bed, on a farm in Nebraska.  I remember asking her what it was like to give birth at home and she said, "Well, I just did my best, that was all we could do back then." She adored her husband, my Grandpa John, and she loved her Lord.  Grandma's mother died on a holiday - Easter - and she thought that was the most wonderful thing, that you could go to meet your Lord on Easter.  That's when she told me she wanted to die on a holiday.  My Grandpa John died years before she did, and she mourned and missed him profoundly.  When she did pass, I thought it would ruin Valentines Day forever, until I remembered her wish to die on a holiday.  What better day to be reunited with the great loves of her life - her husband and her Lord - than on Valentines Day?

Valentines Day is about love. Period.  All kinds of love - family, friends, pets, lovers, caregivers - all  should be celebrated and acknowledged in whatever manner you like. This acknowledgment of others will enrich your soul, and remind you to give yourself a "Valentine" of some sorts as well.  Here is my favorite Valentine, one my mother did up in calligraphy and I have it hanging in (yes) my bathroom.  I see it every morning and it reminds me every day to love myself in order to love others better.

Thomas à Kempis said, "Keep thyself in peace, and then thou wilt be able to bring others to peace.  Have a zeal, therefore, in the first place over thyself."