A QUILT STORY

Opening two bulging carry-ons, Cindy tossed four bright quilts over our mother’s bed. “Pick the one you want,” she said smiling, standing back to let us, her four sisters, gather in for a closer look.

We were dumbfounded – then delighted. Cindy, the oldest in our family of five girls and a boy, had taken up quilting after she’d raised her children and settled in Australia. Because we didn’t see her that often, we didn’t know the extent of her artistry – or even that she was a quilting blue-ribbon winner.

As kids, Cindy had always been the one to surprise us with unusual projects – like the time she sent us to the woods behind our house to pick violets so she could crystallize them for a cake decoration. Eating flowers – what fun!

Later, although we were happy for Cindy’s exciting life as a Navy wife, we missed sharing family gatherings and raising our children together. Even with a steady flow of letters and photos, I regretted we didn’t know each other as adults as well as we might.

But here we all were in the house where we grew up. And there were those four quilts waiting for us to choose. Eight hands lifted and stroked the bright cotton patches and fine tight stitches, all snugly fit into four intricate designs – not one remotely like another.

Well, I confess. I knew the one I wanted and could see it hanging over the piano in my living room. It was the only quilt in earthy browns, deep greens, mustards and golds, bits of burnt orange and tomato red. It even had wooden buttons sewn into its pattern centers. No doubt about it – I wanted that one. But like my three sisters around me, I wouldn’t dare be the first to choose.

We hemmed, we hawed. We lifted each quilt, singing its praises, suggesting this one “looked like” one sister while that one “looked like” another. Slowly, somehow, we each put forth the idea that IF we were to choose, it would PROBABLY be ….and we pointed to our choice, still reluctant to actually “take” one as our own. Cindy just stood by, smiling, enjoying the chaos she’d created.

Finally, we realized that we each knew the quilt we wanted – and that no two of us had picked the same one. Done. All happy, all satisfied. It was then that Cindy told us she’d had a particular sister in mind for each quilt – and we had each picked HER choice.

I see now that those four quilts were a double gift. We have Cindy’s artistry on the walls and beds in our homes. We also have the gift of realizing how much she understood and KNEW each of her sisters. And isn’t that a yearning in all of us – to be known by those we love?

Looking back on that quilt-giving day, Cindy also may have known something we didn’t see until later when, shockingly fast, cancer took her life. Our quilts are a reminder that, whatever the distance or years apart, Cindy’s link to her sisters always was – and is – a constant.

Today’s verse is a reminder that each of us has the ultimate gift of being known, and unreservedly loved, by the God of all creation – the One who sent His Son so that we, in turn, can know Him.

— Barbara Appling

Courtesy of The Church of the Good Shepherd United Methodist