On Tuesday, my daughter Jenn and I spent the morning sewing.
She had fabric left over from a previous quilt that I pulled out while she cut
strips for her next one. She has a sharp eye for color, so her leftovers went together
easily. I sketched a simple box on box pattern. After choosing a background
piece, I randomly started cutting squares—two inch, one and a half inch, one
inch, and half an inch. I eyeballed them into a symmetrical pattern. When Jenn
looked at my design, she shifted a few pieces here and there into a less
predictable style that I liked better.
At the sewing machine, I stitched the stacks of fabric
squares. Again, I just estimated the line placement. By the time I finished them,
two out of the nine crossings on top of the half inch squares crossed closely.
The other seven caught the little square in the middle, but imprecisely.
Precision, in quilting, is not essential. Yes, the best quilters
are precise. But no quilt is perfect. That’s what the people in Paducah, Kentucky told us once when we visited the Museum of the American Quilter's Society. Quilts are celebrations of color and shape. The colors of my little nine by nine and a quarter piece please me. (I planned a
nine by nine, but miscalculated when I pieced the back.) The shapes draw my eye
in a pleasant arc. I don’t notice the irregular stitching. Quilting is a
forgiving art. I will enjoy this little colorful refreshment hanging on the
wall next to my computer.
God quilts together the pieces of our lives. He arranges the
colors and shapes into a pattern than pleases him. He rejoices in the process,
forgiving our imprecision and imperfection. When we’re done, he will gather us
all into his great museum of glory. What a refreshment of joy that will be!
Father, help us forgive ourselves our own imperfections and
imprecision. At this beginning of another earth cycle around the sun, let us
know your forgiveness in a fresh way.