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Pieces of a Quilt

Angela sat gazing out her window as tears flowed down her cheeks. Alone she could allow the pain to flow freely from her heart. She always tried to never weep openly, tears were a symbol of weakness to her. Long ago when she was a small child she had known the sting of a hand or a belt for crying. Angry words were still etched in her mind and heart. She grew up forbidding herself the freedom to express her pain through tears. Now tears were her frequent companion.
Today her heart was breaking. The sun was warm on her body, but she could not shake the chills that had consumed her. She was trembling with the unseen pain that held her captive. "Why", she repeated over and over again. Why did she hurt so much? Wasn't she always the strong one in her family? Always seen as the protector, the one who was always there to rescue those in need. Now she was the one in need but no one knew it. she learned long ago to hide her anger, her pain, and her needs from others.
When those men who had touched her or forced her to do things that she knew was wrong, she was frightened. They warned her to never to tell or she would suffer. Didn't any one know that she was suffering now? Who was there to stop them? Who was there to pick up that little girl and protect her from the pain that was slowly building with each episode? That was long ago.
many years have passed and now she is a grown woman. She had married someone she loved very deeply. Unable to have children of her own she eagerly and lovingly accepted two beautiful boys with various disabilities. After bonding as a family, she and her husband adopted the rambunctious boys. For several years their life was difficult with the children. Obvious problems seemed to get worse rather than better. In time a diagnosis would be given to explain the problems and interlock the other diagnoses that caused them to act this way. Even so the stress would prove too much for her husband. He never accepted he inability to have their own children. He would spring a divorce on her and try to force her to terminate her parental rights to the children. with this done he would have no obligations, he would be free to go with his life. Shocked and in a great depth of buried pain Angela fought on.
In her mind she knew she had been dealt a harsh blow. Nevertheless, she had been blessed with children. Despite the fact that her sons were impaired and unlike other children, nothing or no one would convince her that she should ever give then up.
The sun was shining brightly outside, but her pain brought a thunder shower within her heart. She was at an impasse. Had she not known her Lord and Master for over 26 years? Wasn't it He who had answered her prayers over and over in the years gone by? Even her sons were a living example of prayers answered. When she cried out to Him after her miscarrage, she begged for children in her life. A child who needed a mother. A mother who would love them and hold them on her lap. tell them stories, help them learn to pray, and tell them about the greatest love that ever existed. He heard her pleas and He gave to her two sons. his precious children who scamper to her side for a hug, a smile, or a story, are a continual reminder of answered prayers. If she lknew he loved her and had answered her prayers all these years then why was she so full of pain? Why did she not seek Him for this and the other problems of her life?Not unlike so many of God's people, Angela thought of Him later rather than first. She was convinced that she could hide this pain deep inside her, keeping it out of site. no one could see how deeply she hurt, or see the pain that haunted her from her childhood. She knew there was no physical pain that she had ever endured hat could compare to this. There are no medications that can stop this pain.
With this thunderstoem raging within her heart, and tears streaming down her face, she began to let her mind wander. She returned to her childhood. knowing that she had been taught all her life that God loved her very much. Immediately she found comfort in thoughts of her childhood home. Ironically, this was the same home where she had experienced great turmoil. It also had the sweetest memories. This was were her Grandpa and Grandma had lived. Oh, how she had loved them. Her Grandpa was her first special love. She still remembers how very tall and strong he was. He big, rough hands were so gentle as he took her tiny hand and led her out that country lane. His face was stern and tanned by hours of working in the fields. His voice was rough to all. Yet, that stern face and rough voice would melt into softness with a smile, calling her name with tenderness in his voice. Together they would walk out that dirt road to church on Sunday mornings. Yes, he was strong and his temper was harsh when he wasn't obeyed, but he also was loving and gentle.
Then there was her Grandma. She was the light light of his life. You could look at them and see the love they shared with each other. By his side in the garden, or building a pen for the livestock, she was never left him to work alone. His rule was that no one over the age of two, unless to ill, would remain idle when there was work to be done. Play time came after the work.
Grandma would make fresh bread twice a week. the aroma in the summer-time would tempt you to hurry and get your chores completed in order to return to their huge table for mealtime. Angela loved to help her grandmother make cookies, bake pies, pick apples in their orchards, or pick the vegetables that they worked so hard to raise.
With this warm memory, Angela couldn't help but allow her mind to bring to the surface another special memory. On cold winter nights there wasn't much to do. The children needed to amuse themselves in various ways. One way was to help the adults in various projects that they worked on after supper: making cross stitch, braiding rugs, or cutting up old blankets, and materails for quilts. The smaller children, who were responsible enough, would do the cutting of the quilt pieces while the adults would supervise. Her Grandmother would busily sew on her treadle sewing machine.
One cold evening while seated on the sunporch, Angela asked her grandmother what she would do with all of these pieces of materails that came from everyone else in the family. There were pieces there from her grandfathers bandana that he always carried when he worked as a brakeman on the railroad. Among them were pieces of her grandmother's old dress and her favorite apron. The one Angela had seen her wear all these years. There were pieces that Angela was cutting up that she didn't even recognize or know who they belonged to. Curious, she asked why these were so important, and who did these pieces belong to anyway? Couldn't her grandmother just go to town and buy a new blanket or two, rather than sit there and make their fingers sore cutting up other people's old clothes?
Her grandmother looked a little hurt at first then she smiled as she spoke. Puzzeled, Angela listened carefully. Her Grandmother asked her if she liked it when she climbed upon her Grandpa's lap. " Yes", she answered without thought. So many times she would get hurt playing. Her Grandpa would put her on his lap, softly comforting her, and whiping away her tears. She had always felt safe in his big strong arms. No one could hurt her there! Then Grandma asked her if she liked the fact that there was a quilt to snuggle under when it was so cold upstaires in her bedroom? Why of course, she loved that feeling of being surrounded by the warmth of her new quilt.
With a twinkle in her eye, her grandmother began to explain the reason for all of the pieces that were there to make that quilt. "You see each piece", her grandmother told her, "represented someone's life." Someone in her family, or a close friend either wore or used that piece of material in some way. With each piece of material that she sewed into a quilt there was a memory of a life that was loved very much. "Perhaps that person was no longer alive, but they were forever near us spiritually. We are holding them close to us as we seek warmth from that quilt." Angela had never thought of it that way. Her grandmother went on to explain that: "If we would only look at our lives as a quilt, then think of Jesus as the quilt maker we can know just how much He loves us!" " He painstakingly sews each part of our Heavenly family together."
This thought was a comfort to her as she stared out at the magnificent view of autumn in the mountains that surrounded her home. Was this her Heavenly Father's way of comforting her? She bowed her head in prayer and imagined herself in the throne room of her Heavenly Father. A smile came to her as tears ceased unnoticed. Just as her Grandpa did years ago in her childhood, she could feel herself being lifted up into big strong arms and placed gently on his lap. "My child", she could hear His vioce say tenderly, "it's okay, I love you!" These were the same words her grandfather said years ago. She could see all the painful memories that were hidden inside her laying out at the feet of Jesus. "What is this?" she asked not wanting even Jesus to know the shame and hurt she tried so hard to hide. Without realizing, she had tried to hide it from herself as well.
Jesus said to her, "Do you remember all those years ago when you asked your Grandma why she made quilts instead of buying a blanket?" She did, but what was the reason for His questions? Jesus answered her saying, "Just like then when your grandmother saved those pieces of material, she was saving pieces of memories. Good and bad they were mixed together. She lovingly sewed them together, so that her family would be surrounded by the love of those they cherish." "My love for you is so deep that you can't comprehend it's depth!"
"Let me have those painful memories, that hurt, those joys. I will sew them into a quilt full of love, forgiveness, and blessings. Then I will give it back to you, so that you may surround yourself with my love." "You can take your quilt anywhere you wish, knowing that I, like your beloved grandmother labored without complaint to put together these quilt pieces. I suffered the loss of my life for you! i went through great pain so that you would have everlasting life. My child, your pain and anger is genuine. I have suffered with you. You are never alone! I have promised to be with you forever. I promised to heal your pain. Won't you give me these quilt pieces, and let me mend the brokeness in your life? i will sew the pieces together and you can wrap yourself in my love when I am finished."
Angela thanked God for this answer to her prayers. She knew if she would surrounder all her pain and let Jesus sew it with love, her quilt and her life would forever be blessed. Again, she looked out her window. The sunshine felt warm on her face. Once again she felt like a little girl who when comforted enough up on her grandpa's lap, would climb down and go play. Now her Heavenly Father had used His strong hands to hold her close on His lap while she had cried. Jesus had made that quilt just like her grandmother had told her He would.
Like those quilt pieces of years gone by, He took the ones she held in her heart. Each quilt was sewn with love. Each one gave comfort to a hurting young woman.

By: Kathy H. Timmins