I finished three quilts last week. They are part of a project to upcycle the clothes of a beloved grandmother into memory blankets for her family. The month of cutting, and piecing felt like part of their grieving process, and I held the grandsons in prayer as I worked. There are two more still to go but I sent a message to the woman who asked me to say that she could pick up the first batch. She was content to wait until they are all done. Not only that she paid me. Sight unseen.

This is not always how it goes. I respect a person's right to examine and hold what they have ordered before forking over cash. No matter how well I try to listen I can miss instructions about size, or border colors. I want them to love the project, and that comes with being up close and personal. Yet this woman seems to trust something. Maybe not exactly me, but the clothes themselves. 

The truth is that I do not know the history. These colorful blouses, and soft shirts held her mother. They were the festive wear for family gatherings, parties, holiday meals. Being the stuff of the final quilts, perhaps she felt they had no chance of being wrong. Maybe they don't.

There have been instances when I was invited to teach a class, or give a presentation, and the person asking had unwavering confidence that I would come through for them. Even though I did not share that conviction. It is more invisible than a red carpet, this deep belief in someone else's ability. Yet it conveys an energy that helps me to step into glory. 

I aspire to be that kind of friend.