This wrinkled mess of unfinished patchwork is ME.
Yeah, it looks pretty.
Yeah, you could apply all sorts of heartfelt and poetic metaphors to serve as positive comparisons.
But here's how it really goes down:
I love to make baby quilts.
I did so for all my girls and have made several for other Mothers as a gift to celebrate their new little person.
My best friend had her second daughter 3 months ago.
We have been planning to drive up and see this new family of four for sometime, and of course I wanted and planned to give her a baby quilt.
I could not motivate myself to even start.
I planned an evening of sewing with several other sewing girls just to kick the lethargy out of me. I got some done.
I had a month to finish….I did not even pull it out of the tote I stuffed it in after my sewing night till 3 days prior to our visit.
I really, really tried to put aside time to work on it.
It just did not happen.
My day is filled with so much, that simply must take precedence over sewing together cut out squares of fabric.
When I did steal some time I made lots of mistakes.
Quilting is hard…and has quite a bit of percision involved if you want to end up with a decent finished product. This fact alone is what kinda amazes me that I even stuck with this hobby.
But I still love it.
I take a more sensory and artistic approach to my quilting.
I don't do patterns.
I go to the fabirc store, fingering and eyeing the bolt and bolts of pretty possibilities. I amass a leaning tower of textiles, sit down on the floor and shift, sort, and see…waiting to see which speaks to me.
I am not a touchy-feely-vibe-y-"I'm into art man"-kind of girl, mind you.
My tentative journey into the unlikely pursuit of quilting brought out my creative muse.
Maybe that is why despite having 4 children under the age of 10, I just can't lay it aside for a time, as I know many women, who are in a similar period of their life, have done.
But this latest project screamed out to me:
You Just Dont Have The Time.
Oh, how I really wish I could share with you that this lady came to this realization slowly and calmly; like the sunrise illuminating the horizon of my mind.
No, it came after a destructive tsunami of anger, despair, capped off by scene straight from the exorcist (you know when her head spins around and priest backs away scared out of mind).
That moment, which I not going to go into detail over, came right around 9:30am the morning we were to leave…the quilt about and hour or more away from completion.
I should mention that feeding the fuel for my exorcist moment, was the fact that my daughter threw up the night before, and so now we could not all go up, as Daddy stayed home with the puking one, leaving me to drive the two hours with 3 other children, and then drive back, in the same day.
I was just so frustrated in myself.
I knew my friend did not care if I did not have it done. She just wanted to see us.
But I wanted it done.
I wanted to bring my lovingly picking out
and created baby quilt that I designed,
with little bits of pretty stitched on,
with just the right combinations of prints and colours,
and vintage ribbon sprinkled in.
It feels nice to give something you made to someone you love, and who will appreciate what you did.
I especially get a real high from accomplishing: type A, over-achiever, driven, what ever the name is to describe this: I am.
When it's a goal I especially want to complete or task to finish, and I really put forth a lot of effort to accomplish, and it does not get done, I turn into:
(see above scary picture at top).
So about that other picture at the top; before the one involving demons.
My unfinished quilt.
It does look rather nice in that soft sunny light.
But it's ragged at the edge.
Pull on it enough time, and it will unravel, and then it aint gonna be pretty.
Thats what I am.
I look respectable, normal, conservative from a distance.
But, in reality, I am simply one hard tug away from an unraveled mess.
Four hours of mindless highway driving on Saturday, and a restoring, and clarifying church service yesterday has changed my perspective. I do see where I need to change, attitude and action-wise.
I can only close in saying:
Thank God His Son is the most patiant, graceful seamstress there is.