Piece by piece—Carolyn R. Wilker

I’ve always admired the craftsmanship that goes into quilting, especially those quilts that look like works of art. Like the quilts auctioned off at the Mennonite Relief sale each spring.  My style, up to the last quilt project, has always been hand stitching around the design elements of a fabric panel.

My eldest daughter asked if I would sew a quilt for their new baby’s crib.  She wanted a fairly simple design that wouldn’t take me endless hours to complete, but with colours that match the baby’s room. One day before Christmas, we went to the Creative Sisters Quilt Studio in Kitchener. A young woman named Jemcah helped us find suitable fabrics. We had a lot of fun playing with the fat quarters, arranging the colours and patterns.  When we came upon the design she liked best, my daughter took out her cell phone and snapped a picture.

I found a background fabric. “What do you think of this?” I asked. The large pattern mirrored one of the small print squares. My daughter loved it. Jemcah and another shopper I happened to know helped us to figure out the amounts of fabric to create the design. I was getting excited about sewing it.

            My goal was to have the quilt done before the baby was born. Like carpentry, one measures several times and cuts once. Unlike carpentry, the fabric had to be washed first. I got it done in time, enjoying the process and the final product. It gave me the itch to try something else, eventually.

quilt on baby's bed

 

A particular quilt shop is offering the chance at making a mystery quilt. You get all the fabric at once and the first set of instructions. Each month, the shop sends a new set of instructions until you have the whole set.

I was thinking of signing up, but with Write Canada conference coming up and being on faculty, I didn’t know if I should take on an extra project, so I decided to wait.

 Good news came on Monday—the deadline has been extended to June 20^th.  After conference, I really could drive out to Shakespeare and pick up my packet. Hmm.

 I can choose from a main colour in red, blue, brown or some other colour. Then someone at the quilt shop will choose coordinating fabrics in light and dark to go with it. What colour shall I choose? What will this quilt look like when it’s done. Ah, but that’s the secret.

The newsletter promised that the pattern only requires basic cutting and piecing skills. So what is there to worry about? Except that I like to see what I’m getting myself into and have that next book to finish.

What does quilting have to do with faith? At first glance, unless you sew, it may not be immediately obvious. It's about the stitching together of many parts. In our faith, we have to do our own stitching. Not literally, but we put the pieces together out of what we know and learn. We may have guidance of a pastor or parent, but we don’t just get it handed down from our parents. We have to do our own work.  

 A small child can only handle the simplest concept, such as “Jesus loves me, this I know.” Sing the song as young as three or four for the first time—or much later. Even adults often grapple with that one when troubles crop up.

As we grow, though, we start to “get it,” especially at the “head” level. It can take awhile for it to reach our heart, and if we’re brave, we ask a whole lot more questions and try bigger leaps of faith, just as I’m considering with this mystery quilt. Maybe.

This may be a lesson for me too. I’m not sure this is the right time for me to take on such a daunting project. Writing is a piece by piece project too, in a way. A collection of poetry or chapters for a book, created one at a time.

 There will be other quilting projects to tempt me come fall and winter. This summer I plan to write and spend time with family and friends. And garden.

 Until next time, remember, whatever you’re learning, to build it carefully, piece by piece.

 

Carolyn R. Wilker is a southwestern Ontario based writer and editor with an interest in gardening, sewing and, of course, her family. www.carolynwilker.ca

In Stitches - Kathleen Gibson

I'm sewing again, for the first time in eons.

It started with a trip to the store to buy six kitchen chair cushions – and a trip from the store without any kitchen chair cushions. “I refuse to pay $15.99 apiece for cushions I like, let alone ones I don’t,” I told the Preacher later.

Back home, I dug out some leftover upholstery material and an unused memory foam mattress topper stored in the basement. I’d kept both for years, sure I’d use them – one day. Then from the depths of the hall closet I mined the third part of the equation: my almost-antique Elna sewing machine, buried under kids' puzzles and a toy doctor’s kit. Solid steel and obedient as a steed, last time I used it.

Old Iron Horse needed cleaning and oiling, but after that, it galloped smoothly around the cushion fabric; straight to the finish line each time. A day and a half later, I didn’t have a weekly column written, but my family sat on new chair cushions and a matching runner sat on our table. Placemats, already cut, wait for another weekend.

When our marriage was young, and the children too, I sewed plenty. Raised by two creative parents, I learned early in life that few things are as rewarding as using your own hands to bring form and substance from something lacking in both. I took the same pleasure in a finished sewing project as I have done for years in a finished article or book.

Something unexpected happened during the stitching of those cushions. Amidst the hum of my machine and the crunch of scissors biting through fabric; between enjoying the feel of fabric slipping through my fingers and the sight of each completed cushion, I remembered how I once loved sewing. How its monotony hollowed out a sacred space for thought. Stilled me.

I can't say when it happened. But somewhere along the writing path I’ve followed with such passion for so long, I have subconsciously bought into a falsity: that creating a beautiful pile of words is worth more in God’s eyes than any other activity I (or my neighbor) could do with a pure heart and honest intent. I am wrong, and I needed the Iron Horse to remind me.

We revere the arts, both in society and our churches. We call God the Consummate Artist and vault musicians, artists, writers, worship leaders and their works to unattainable heights of favour. We are wrong there too. God is indeed a Consummate Artist, but scripture reveals him as Consummate
Everything. Surely then, all we do with a spirit consistent and true to the Son of God in us, is equally valuable in his eyes.

What are you up to, fellow Christ-follower? Plumbing, teaching, building, crafting, cooking, serving?  Whatever God leads you to, do it for his glory. And never forget: his smile rests on you.

I will spend this weekend too, in stitches.

Author, newspaper columnist, broadcaster and speaker, Kathleen Gibson lives in Saskatchewan, Canada. Find her online, on Facebook, and sometimes behind her sewing machine.

A Stitch In Time – Lawrence

There is nothing like an imminent event to spur one on to finish jobs that have been waiting in the wings for some time.

We were expecting a guest to come and stay with us for a few days. The guest room doubles as a sewing room; it houses my sewing machine, on top of which there were a few sewing jobs, big and small, waiting to be done.

I have been heavily involved in writing projects but, as it happened, I was currently at a place in my assignments where they could be put aside for a while. My manuscript was completed and waiting for contributions from other authors—blurbs, endorsements and a foreword—before I could proceed.

My other writing assignments were also up to date so I could give my attention fully to my sewing projects. In actual fact, I love sewing, but there never seems to be enough time for me to fit it in to my busy day. Along with my Celtic Knot Work art, sewing shows another side of my creativity. But, as with writing, sewing needs its own time, place and reason and, now I had all three.

The main sewing job I wanted to get done was one of recycling. So, after completing some small mending tasks, I took out the two twin-size duvets that were no longer needed for people and considered how I would go about making them into small size pads that the local OSPCA could use to give some comfort to their animals.

Sewing allows one’s mind and imagination some freedom to roam in many areas. While one is sewing a straight seam one’s mind can think up new writing ideas, one’s soul can pray for people in need, and one’s heart can remember with gratitude and thanksgiving all those things, people and events for which one is, in fact, grateful and thankful.

Stitching up a seam helps me to let go of anxieties and worries and let God take over my life one stitch at a time. And, at the end of my recent sewing extravaganza, I had a clean and tidy room for our guest’s arrival as well as eight small pads on which some homeless animals could get a modicum of comfort.