Yesterday I went to a quilt show. There were hundreds of quilts from around the world, and vendors peddling all manner of fabric and tools for the craft. Some of the quilts were decked with blue ribbons, bestowed at the discretion of a committee of experts who meticulously examined each piece for craftsmanship, detail, use of color. The winners were remarkable. Handquilted curlicued danced across the surfaces, trapunto flowers puffed like mushrooms, design lines carried me like music. I read the descriptions and ached for photographs of the women who spent hundreds of hours bent over a needle.

 

The conference room was crowded. Although the attendees had different names and addresses, in one thing we resonated. We love quilts. I could walk up to anyone and strike up a conversation about needle turned applique or kaleidoscopes. We knew the buzz words. 

 

I felt an underlying sisterhood with everyone there, in sharp contrast to when I am banging around on a crowded sidewalk in Philly.  Each of us cleared our calendar, followed the meandering directions of a GPS and plunked down money to gain entrance. It had been neither convenient nor cheap to get there. But I sighed with relief and anticipation as I walked through the double doors. Even though I did not introduce myself to a single woman, I felt connected. 

 

Quilting is close to my heart. Marriage is even closer. When I find myself in a group of people who cherish the ideals of marriage I smell home. Each time a clutch of folks are nested in my living room to talk about mentoring, or open an email in the hopes of a pithy moat, or walk through the double doors to a marriage conference, I am surrounded by connection.

 

Each piece of this quilt is a radiant component of the overall beauty. Each one points to and is launched by the Center.

 

 

 

 

 

Quilt by Paula Nadelstern

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