Grandma’s Quilt

“Well now…  Y’all ever notice how an old quilt can tell a story?

Not just by the pattern, but by every little breath and act of love woven into every little stitch.

Ya know… Grandma didn’t make hers in one afternoon.  She did not have any fancy machines to help her scoot right along.

For each one, it took her months, sometimes years of her devout attention, prayers, and love were put in to each one.

One square at a time. One careful stitch after another.

Piece by piece…. Quarter inch by inch…

Interesting… Grandma’s quilts… Some squares of pieces came from an old Sunday dress. I’ll never forget this…  Others from Paw’s worn-out work shirt. It was clean but his hard labor helped it obtain its new found color it became overall.

Pieces…of life right before our own eyes….

Oh.. there was a piece of my brother’s baby blanket. And even one show a piece of Grandmas apron that she so often used it to wipe away every tear that I shed, embedded deep within in it. Also pieced together within now…  OH… I can’t forget she even added a favorite flour sack. 

Every patch and piece held a priceless memory.

Every patch and piece had its very own story.

Every stitch held a kiss of love.

I used ta watch her out of the corner of my eye while I lay there thinking about life…. Grandma… she never worried if every square matched perfectly, she just kept sewing.

Then I noticed…. Year after year, over time… life happened.

Children, like me, we all grew up.  Dogs jumped on the davenport as well as the bed. Now that we have also gifted her with grandkids, they have chimed in using her quilts too… They often built forts with them and spilled on them too… Woops….  

As all of this took place, the quilts… in truth…

They were tugged on more than loved on…

And over time, the pulled threads began loosening.

Corners started to fray.

Many patches wore down too thin to where now light shine through it.

An obvious core portion of some now… extremely frail. 

Then one day, as I sat in this parlor thinking about the memories that we have shared here… I reminisced as I looked at each memory that held on the quilt that over lay on the couch …

As I looked at it with depth, I noticed a little tear appeared.   Most folks would’ve said…”Well… I guess it’s finally worn out. Time to let it go.”

Not Grandma. She’d quietly thread another needle, and found more memorable pieces and  little by little each piece of a new memory began to be woven into place with the rest,  with those gentle hands, she’d mend it again. 

And again…

Truth be told, sometimes the quilt looked even prettier after it had been patched.

Then it got me wonderin’…

Hum…

 Aren’t people a lot like Grandma’s quilt?

Life pulls at us. We lose people.  We carry burdens.  We make mistakes.

Sometimes we come unraveled a little around the edges.  And ya know… Sometimes our colors fade too. And some of us have even had our cores torn, too….

I have…   Perhaps, you, too?

And ya know what else… sometimes, some of us wonder if we’ve become too worn…

Too broken…Too patched together to still be worth much anymore.

Time to just let it go.

But God… 

Well… He doesn’t throw away quilts because they need mending.

He doesn’t throw away people either.

He simply sits down beside us… He threads another needle, and lovingly begins sewing us back together ~   One day… One God~breathed kiss and stitch of grace at a time.

And ya know what else?

Sometimes, the places where we’ve been mended become the strongest parts of us.

Now that’s something worth wrapping yourself up in.

Hold on to this as you within it, snuggle up tight.   Right?

Don’t cha think?

And ya know, I also got ta thinkin’… 

Maybe that’s why Grandma’s favorite quilt wasn’t the newest one, it was the one that had been loved enough to need mending.

Mine, too…”

~ Sewn together by Deliverance Hope