The other day, Mimi asked me as I was sewing this, "momma, what's the story of that quilt?" (that itself is an amazing question, considering I've never made a quilt with a story)
I laid it on the ground and began to ask her questions. "who do you think might be the red? And the gray? And the other parts, what might they be?"... And then..."this part is the struggle." ("what's a struggle?" -followed by an explanation)
She pointed to the black and white text... "momma, are these the lies and scary things that were said to you?" (yes)
I explained to her that at the one black line, we see something big had to be done, everything had to end. From there the end of the story is unknown. All that is left is hope for what we don't have any control over and our prayers for a very special little boy.
At this point, z started crying, "it's too sad! I don't want to talk about that quilt!"
Somehow my heart came through my hands enough even that my kids felt it when looking at this. There is much more to the quilt and it's telling of the story than I can write here, but I think you can get the picture.
I'm not sure what to do with it now. It's not exactly a quilt I want in my house. None of us would want to curl up under it. I've been told it's been accepted to the Glendale Quilt Show next month. That is really exciting. (two other quilts of mine will be there). After that, who knows.
But as I look at it, this big, beautiful piece of painful art, I am so glad I invested the 100+ hours I did in making it. Somehow part of me is there in the quilt. Somehow my pain was released, stitch by stitch, tear by tear, thought by thought as I made this. It is completely a piece of my heart.
And now I can share it with you.
By the way. The pic of the kids holding it up in the front yard makes my heart want to burst. It's so adorable to see their little hands. But you have to know that the two tiny people behind that quilt are the two reasons I gave up my dream of being a foster mom. When that pain came between me and them, when their lives were threatened... Well, that's when that last line was drawn. And now there is the unknown... And the faith it takes to walk it all out.
1 comment:
Oh my. Your children have such sensitive and sweet hearts. Maybe that quilt will make its way to its rightful home one day. Just like it has a story, it has a home, too. :)
Personally, I don't know if I could spend that much time in my head and my heart to create something out of the pain like you have. I think it's pretty fabulous that you do it. :)
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