Theology in the Trenches: Grandma’s quilt

Tag : Quilt Fabric
I recall sporting that dress to my first high school registration,albeit the dress was a bit outdated by that time. I walked, thisparticular day, several blocks in order to stand in the long lineof students gathering. Mom “suggested” I wear a dressand she assured me it would be more than proper to do so. Afterall, proper always took priority over fashion or what one trulywanted as a teen.

Upon arriving, I quickly realized, I was out of place and prettymuch the only one dressed “properly.” The students inthe parochial school, from whence I’d just graduated, woreuniforms and fashion was never high on the list, until now. I stoodself-consciously in that line that was growing longer by theminute.

Soon, a friendly group of peers encircled me, unaware of my dressfor the day and unaware of how I was feeling. Thank goodness theirsmiles displayed a genuineness that would solidify my circle offriends for the next four years.

Wow, all those memories and that was only one square ongrandma’s patchwork quilt.

A signature of grandma’s quilt was that almost every piece ofthe material on it was filled with flowers. Where there wasgrandma, there were flowers ... flowers on the breakfast table,flowers near the windows and flowers in the garden. There wereflowers on the wall, flowers on the material and even wintertimeflowers blooming in grandma’s house.

There was love displayed in grandma’s flowers and there waslove in grandma. It was as if flowers were blooming out of theevery word grandma spoke and every project grandma took on. Therewas love in her hand-stitched clothing, love in her cut up scrapsfrom the clothing, and there was love as the scraps found their wayinto the formation of one of grandma’s quilts.

And, as I glanced into the corner of my closet, I lifted to my faceone of the most treasured possessions I own, grandma’spatchwork quilt. You see, her quilt was not made for the countyfair. It was made for me. It wasn’t on display for all to seebut simply went from her hands, to mine.

Dear Lord, You do that for us, don’t you. You give ofyourself just because you love us and because we are yours. Likegrandma’s quilt, it is a gift. I accepted grandma’sgift she offered just like I accept your gift, which is freelygiven. Your love will never get worn or tattered but is new everymorning, new every morning; great is your faithfulness, Oh Lord.Great is your faithfulness. Amen.

Kathleen Kjolhaug lives on the family homestead outside ofClearbrook with her husband Pete and their six children. Sheteaches kindergarten but also enjoys writing about family life andbrings humor into the sacred moments of everyday living. Kathleenis the daughter of Red and Eileen Kohlhof of the Hackensack-Walkerarea.

Theology in the Trenches appears in several local newspapersthroughout Minnesota. She can be reached at wemenews @gvtel.com.