The good, the bad, the ugly:
I fought through a sewing machine issue, my thread was doing weird stuff, the quilt wasn't squaring,
I had to make my binding twice, and the second binding was still a smaller width than I wanted. What was I thinking cutting 1 and 3/4 instead of 2 inches? And all the while I was up against a time constraint that seemed to be laughing in my face.
...and then the final straw came when I pulled the quilt fresh from the dryer (two hours later than I was hoping to finish) and the brown flannel that I used as my background had pilled -- you know those oh so not attractive little white fuzz balls? tears.
Tears, like Niagara Falls, baby. Oh sweet quilting faeries save me. Quilting moments don't get any more raw than that. It felt like a serious dose of, "I'masuckyquilter."
At this point, my poor husband is not sure what the heck is going on. All he can see is my balling my eyes out and a beautiful quilt made with beautiful healing intention, for a beautiful person.
He asks what's wrong. I tell him that the flannel pilled and a seam busted open. He doesn't even know what pilling is. He reassures me that it looks incredible and tells me that he thought I bought fancy fabric that was supposed to antique with a wash.
Isn't he amazing?
I dried my tears, dabbed a cold wash cloth on my face, and nuzzled the puppy. Best medicine ever! As I was pulling myself together I decided I was just too close to this project which is why I could only see it's every flaw. I needed to just trust myself, fold the dang thing up... tie on pretty ribbon and believe it would all be ok.
And honestly nothing could have prepared me for what came next. You see, this quilt was made to go live with my Mom (in love) who is recovering from a surgery, hence the healing intentions. I hand her the folded bundle all nervous and worried that it won't measure up to how incredible she is, but you know... she simply bursts with joy. She kisses and embraces me. She may have even been holding tears back. I know I was.
It felt great.
The Mister was right. It wasn't about perfect quilting. It was about caring, connecting, and emotion through stitches.
It was about a warm quilt that would stand in for us and give her constant hugs and warmth when we can't be there. It's about reminding her that she is our rock and how very much we love her.
And that's where the name came from. Love Upon a Star... and if you love upon all the stars... well, that's a lot of love, isn't it?
This quilt has been an emotional journey. But now that I am on the other side... I am so glad I stuck with it.
I know it will be treasured.
And I know I found a way to say I love you more than I ever could through words, and I believe even more now in the power of quilting and seriously how therapeutic it can be for the maker and the receiver.
The end.
p.s. I will be sharing this with some of the linky parties on my side bar and especially at Fabric Tuesday with Quilt Story. I hope my story urges someone else to share love through stitches too -- it's rewarding beyond the ends of the universe and back!
