quilting for community

I love to make baby quilts, and often ask my expectant friends for favourite colours or patterns, to give them a little say in the quilt's design and to make sure it looks nice in the nursery. I generally love the surprise factor -- the reveal -- and the many evenings of sewing spent thinking about the recipient.

With this quilt, though, I tried something slightly different -- instead of working on it alone and simply giving away the final product, I walked through the entire process together with my friend , to create this (very, very large) baby quilt for her soon-to-arrive little boy.

We sorted through fabrics together while our combined five children played and squabbled and ate playdough at our feet. We planned out the design, decided on the "right" size of triangle, and then accidentally cut all the fabric to a different size anyway (which is also "right", it seems). We put children to bed and then escaped for evenings of sewing and catching up and the occasional chocolate truffle.

And, it turned out that what I had so arrogantly considered as "my gift to her" turned out to be much more of a gift to me. Several times a week, this amazing friend poured inspiration and encouragement and radical honesty into my life, and showed me a level of community that I hadn't known that I was missing.

How often do we (especially "we" mothers of young children) get to spend one-on-one time with anyone, let alone consistent, regular time with a friend? And how encouraging it is to be able to really listen and really be listened to. Another friend and I catch up properly every six months or so by strapping some combination of our children into the car and driving to IKEA in Houston, and finding our uninterrupted time to talk amidst six lanes of traffic. Perhaps this -- sewing together, collaborating on a quilt or other project -- is an excuse to make time this consistent sort of for one another, with, of course, the added bonus of something beautiful created along the way.



With our holiday to England fast-approaching, this quilt has been fast-tracked, and is all ready for binding today (using this striped mustard fabric cut from a thrifted pillowcase!). More details on the fabrics used when I share the finished photos...

How to Teach a Man to Quilt

Sometimes, you can spend a year getting to know people, and not really know them until you see them outside their comfort-zone, challenged somehow. For some of our friends, recently, that challenge was learning to make a quilt.

I'd volunteered, a few months ago, to make three child-sixed quilts to be given to the first group of Ghanian children rescued by Mercy Project from slavery. The first two came together quickly from my fabric pile, but for the third, I really wanted to try involving a group of our friends (who are, incidentally, 95% male) in the experience. 

Initially, the plan was simply to have the group cut squares out of fabric -- a fool-proof way to get everyone, no matter their sewing experience, to take part. However, these chaps are pretty creative: musicians, philosophers, more INFJs than you could dare to hope for. So it seemed a bit of a waste to have them simply serve as manual labour!

Instead, I cut and prepared the fabric in advance -- supplies for a basic log-cabin quilt. Twenty-five 8" squares, and a large pile of 3" wide strips, of various lengths (mostly cut from men's shirts).

The group, instead, was in charge of piecing the blocks together. The simplest construction: lay one strip along the edge of one block, pin it, and pass it along to be sewn. (I sewed each seam, it was ironed, and then passed back to them to add a second, third, and then fourth side).

(Here's our two-year-old electronics-expert manning the sewing machine)

So this is where I saw the true colours of our friends -- there wasn't one moan, one joke, one sigh over doing something girly. We put on some Flight of the Conchords music, and it was as natural as if we'd been sitting around playing cards. Okay, there were a few complaints that the only decent scissors I have are left-handed, and a little squabbling over blocks as they came back from the sewing machine ("That one was MINE!" "Don't put that yellow on there -- I wanted it all BLUE!"), but in a lovely, enthusiastic-about-what-we're-doing sort of way.

And so, within an hour, we had twenty-five completed blocks -- amazing! I simply joined them all together the next day, added a simple backing, and there you have it -- a community-effort at quilting.

Here are all three quilts (in need of an iron!), ready to join Mercy Project as they set off for Ghana next Wednesday!

{in my shoes}

These seven words always arrive when I need them. Sung, barely in tune with how much I want them to be true. And then shouted, louder and louder, as these amazing people around me show again and again what it's like to walk through life together. Thank you.

P.S. Sadly, these shoes will never once ever walk again -- after six years, this week their feeble little soles have snapped completely in two. Rest in pieces, stripy friends.