Posts Tagged ‘patchwork’

I have a patchwork quilt I made a couple of years ago. A patchwork quilt is supposed to tell a story. It is supposed to be made of all the special and beautiful and significant fabric that you can find. They are supposed to be carefully and exquisitely designed. Some families have passed quilts down for centuries. Some are made with baby dresses or bits from other blankets. Mine wasn’t.

In some places, prisoners have made patchwork quilts as something to do, and something to teach them the art of sewing. There is a link between captivity and creativity. And those quilts began to restore those prisoners into human beings with purpose and imagination. They now had something to do with the hours of solitude that their confinement gave them. Those quilts also told a story.

Now, I’m not so sure about mine. I used odd bits of fabric that I had, some I bought especially. But I didn’t really believe that I could do it. I wasn’t sure I really wanted to invest lots of money into a project I wasn’t sure I could finish. I didn’t really have lots of money anyway.

Somehow though, that quilt charts a difficult story in my own life. It charts the time  of rejection by my mother (and loss of sewing machine, so needed to be finished by hand). It charts the subsequent year and descent into depression and the dark places. It charts God meeting me there at the bottom of the pit and gradually showing his light into the hole and bringing me to the surface gradually and surely. It charts eventual reconciliation and restoration of a broken relationship, even if it will never be completely perfect. And it looks good on my bed and keeps me warm.

It may not be the finest fabric or a complex design, but my quilt does its job. It tells a story. It reminds me that even when I feel like a prisoner in the darkest place there is hope and creativity and imagination possible. It shows me that I can do it – maybe it isn’t perfect but I made a quilt of my own, and that is a great place to start.

Finally, it demonstrates that even in the darkest places, even at our most hopeless, we still have a story to tell. We still matter. We are made in the image of God, and so we are born to create, elegant or exquisite things or not. And even in the darkest places, we can still believe and trust in the God of hope.

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