There is a term quilters have for those projects that get shoved in the closet for lack of time, inclination or enough border fabric. UFO means UnFinished Object, and I have adopted dozens from eBay and quilters who are purging their shelves. The thing about blocks is, they wait. Unlike the half eaten cheesecake in the back of the fridge, Log
Cabins are no worse for the wear of a year or even ten. This winter I sandwiched and quilted two Irish Chains that were probably pieced when my mother was in kindergarten, though I have not paid to have them appraised as such. They are charming with their dainty prints and muslin, and two inch squares snipped with scissors and a cardboard template.
I like that they retain their worth. The antique Double Wedding Rings that are draped on my beds are as cozy as they were
when Eleanor Roosevelt was putting roses in the Oval Office. They do not expire like a carton of milk or even go out of style. My Dresden Plates will keep someone as warm tonight as they did sixty years ago, or rather they would have if they had ever made it out of the attic.
I got an email today from a friend I have not laid eyes on in five years. She wrote to tell me about her day. Because she lives in another part of the country our paths do not often bump, but I did
gift her with a small book of my stories. This week when she was especially beaten down by the cold and sickness that follows on its heels, she asked for spiritual help.
Today.
She felt inspired to read one which rests on the belief that angels are incredibly close and eager to guide us. She listened closely within her heart and heard a response.
"Turn up the heat."
She
could do this. Normally she keeps it on the nippy side, to be frugal and to leave a smaller carbon footprint but given the circumstances she could splurge with a few degrees. It helped. The impossible became manageable.
Later she was feeling overwhelmed with a fever and the fact that her husband has been gone for a month, and the tears were banging on her eyelids trying to get out. She prayed again and saw a word in capital
letters.
WAIT
She felt a calm wash over her. Yes, the fever would pass and her husband would be home in a few days. I am grateful that she took the time to tell me that my words were helpful.
Because I have not seen her in so long I can be certain that the book sat in a pile for months. Years. Yet the print was patient. It waited.
Sometimes the ways we reach out to one another
get gobbled up and swallowed. Other times they must bide their time. But I believe that even those kindnesses spoken years ago will still offer warmth when the speaker has long since gone on her way.
