I’ve been toying with the idea of making a quilt. One of my friends from art school back in Oregon is starting a business producing quilting kits and while I have never even sewed a button on successfully, I was thinking I’d might start. Tim has been suggesting, and I agree, that it would be good to find a creative outlet that was outside of my health issues.

I’ve been thinking about the concepts of quilts a lot lately. Of course, there was the beautiful gift my mom’s friend gave me. Just the idea of the quilt being the toil and sweat of a group of ladies who shared their stories and prayers and how that was somehow intertwined with the very fabric of the gift they gave me touched me so much. Like the quilt was the resulting tapestry of their love.

A coworker of mine and I got to talking about quilts the other day for some reason, and again, this idea of a joint labor of love; that it becomes much more than a physical thing that covers but a way stories and challenges and laughter, this collective contribution, gets absorbed into a physical thing.

Anyway, just the whole idea of quilts have been on my mind a lot lately. I had a rather rough day yesterday, (more on that later) only to come home to a stunning and overwhelming gift of collective love. The girls from my high school class–more appropriately women, I guess; our 20 year reunion is next year–had sent in letters and prayers, photos, quotes and memories for a book they made in my honor, something to keep my spirits up, encourage me when times got tough.  A quilt in book form.

1-Downloads3It’s funny how not only have I realized that every day is a chance to start over, but truly every hour. When I got this incredible treasure, Lindsey and I had just returned home from a pre-chemo procedure to put my port in. It was difficult for a number of reasons. I had expected to be completed knocked out (I wasn’t, meaning I was paranoid the whole time I would see/feel it), I thought it was an external IV line (it’s not, I look like Lady Gaga ala prosthetics on the face stage), and it just hurt. Bad.  Like I told the nurse to stop and I started crying bad. I get tired of being poked and prodded. It feels like every time I start to feel better, something else is waiting for me. But to have this awful experience, and to come home to something that was created in such pure love, well it just reaffirmed to me that A. I have the most amazing friends in the world; B. Attending St. Scholastica was an unbelievable gift and C. A day that starts bad can become a beautiful and incredible one. Lindsey and I cried for like an hour flipping through the pages. I cannot expressed how touched I am.

I saw this quote about quilts that resonated with me. The author is unknown but it goes like this:

Our lives are like quilts – bits and pieces, joy and sorrow, stitched with love.

My life is full of both joy and sorrow. But with the gift of friendship, along with the miraculous memory foam mattress pad my hero of a husband bought for me, I feel asleep last night (literally and metaphorically) enveloped in love.


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