I will never be a master quilter. Oh, I'm experienced, and certainly prolific. But I have no illusions about winning a blue ribbon at Paducah.

 

Quilts need to lie flat. There mustn't be gaps in the seams. Years ago when I belonged to a guild there was a speaker telling outrageous stories about sewing mishaps. Like the woman who misplaced one diamond of her eight pointed Star of Bethlehem, and no amount of ironing could make it smooth. 

 

I love my Dresden Plates and pineapples. But you will not see me tackle a Mariner's Compass, or a Feathered Star. Those patterns are meticulous and unforgiving. I tend toward designs that don't scream failure if the points don't match precisely. 

 

Over the years there have been friends who do me the honor of enjoying the current project. 

 

"It's beautiful!"

 

"I love the colors!"

 

"It's my favorite!"

 

In all their comments there has been a glaring absence of criticism. In fact if I succumb to that nearly irresistible urge to highlight mistakes they shoo away my self deprecation like an annoying fly. 

 

“Passhaw. It adds character.”

 

There is a passage in the book Heavenly Secrets that describes the lengths that angels go to to avoid noticing our faults. It refers to the part of Genesis where Noah is lying drunk in his tent, and his two sons literally bend over backwards to cover his nakedness without looking. 

 

Would that I could be so heaven bent as to only see what is lovely.