The Darling Files 004 // On Quilting and Writing

A new year, a new darling file to unearth. This one was written in many layers. First it was an idea written in 2016 about the first quilt I ever sewed. Then a year later I weaved in some thoughts on creativity after reading an inspiring quote. Much later in 2021 I took a writing course where we were invited to create found poetry from a sample of writing. I never knew what any of this would become. Today, it became an invitiation for me in the new year. I considered doing some editing as my writing style has changed over the years. But I stopped myself after reading to the end. We’re not going for perfection. Just story. Scatter the stars and the quilt blocks and the darling words. See what they become.

Do you have any scattered words to share? I’d love to see your darlings!

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The first quilt I ever sewed was for a friend’s new baby. She had made one for my baby and it seemed only right that I return the gesture. I would sew a quilt.

Sewing was not new to me, but quilting was, and the process intimidated me. Not that anyone ever looked at a quilt and thought "psht. I could do that." It’s just I never considered all the steps it required. 

First you have to wash and iron the fabric. I don’t even iron my clothes so it felt ridiculous to iron a piece of fabric I was about to cut up. But my mom told me that’s how it was done and so I complied. 

Next, you cut the pieces, first into strips then strips into squares. Sometimes you even cut the squares into triangles. Now you have a pile of squares that must be laid out on the floor into a pattern. You have to rearrange the fabric until the right colors are next to one another. It's a puzzle but you don’t know what the picture is supposed to look like until you see it. Even then you have to squint just a bit, use your imagination to see what the finished product might be. 

With the puzzle complete, that’s when you finally get to pull out your sewing machine. It’s just straight stitches. But even that can be hard. You must get the seams to align. Sew, cut thread, line up, repeat. You put two together, then three, then four and so on. But that is just a row. Now you must add the rows together.  Those stitches are longer and more difficult. 

On and on it goes until you have a top. But a top is not a quilt. The quilt needs a back and a filling. You must stretch the top and the back together. Don’t forget to pin. I always want to skip the pinning but you can’t do that. They must be together or the stretching will be for nothing. Now, and only now do you quilt. If I was a traditionalist I would pull out my needle, thread, and quilting circle. I don’t have the patience for that. So it's back to the sewing machine. I go with straight lines, stitch the ditch, as my grandma calls it. Basically you follow the seams you have already made, connecting the front to the back. That is what makes it a quilt–the lines on the front carry through the blanket, tying it all together. Now you cut and bind, like doing a puzzle backwards, from the inside out. But this final step is when it starts to really come to shape. Instead of a pile of scraps and loose thread, it starts to look like a blanket. 

So much effort. So many steps. So much patience. Is it no wonder that sitting under a blanket you can’t help but feel loved? 

And still, when I finished that first quilt and held it up, I was unhappy. None of my seams lined up, the binding was off, the stitches glaring zigzags where they should have been hidden. I couldn’t see past the mistakes. But it was too late to fix.  The quilt was done. The effort put in. All that was left to do was send it along and hope that it still kept her baby warm. 

**

I once read the response by a writer I love, Amanda Waters, to a very common question for creative mothers–how does she pursue creativity alongside motherhood?

"They want the stars to have aligned for them, and they want to know how I’ve aligned mine…So I do my best to share with them that my stars are scattered, just like theirs, and I convey that stars in a straight line cannot light up the dark, night sky like ones that are sprinkled all over the place." 

For her it’s a starry sky, for me–a quilt.

The mismatched squares of progress look messy when cut one by one, each writing session at a time. Lining up the moments big and small of my creativity feels like an impossible puzzle. How is this going to work? Am I getting anywhere? But like the stars in the sky, it is only when the squares come together all at once that the beauty is seen. 

My friend texts me a picture every now and again of the quilt I made in its natural habitat. The younger brother snuggles with it now. In the pictures I don’t notice the fabric I didn’t like. I don’t see the mismatched corners or the uneven stitches. I can’t check on the seams. They are probably already loosening. But none of this matters. Because when the quilt is put together, the blanket does its job. It is warm. It is comforting. It reminds the baby, and more importantly, the mother, of the love and prayer surrounding them. The quilt is not perfect, but it is complete, and it does its job. 

So I keep stitching, and I keep writing. It all feels a bit like love and prayer.

//

A Found Poem from the above essay:

Sew a Quilt

Sew a quilt

I could do that.

Pieces into strips into squares.

A puzzle without a picture

Use your imagination

Two together, then three, then four

Sew, cut, thread, piece, align, repeat. 

Patience, follow, connect.

Tie it all together. 

Starts to come to shape.

So much effort. So many steps. 

When the squares come together

Is it no wonder sitting under a blanket feels

Like love and prayer?