I was able to hang this quilt this morning after a couple of weeks of burying and almost rushing myself through it. As I hung it I breathed a cleansing breathe of renewal, as if it was the eraser for these last challenging couple of weeks.
Sometimes being a grownup isn't what it's cracked up to be. We don't have that magical filter that automatically changes what is difficult into something that is inconsequential. As a parent of the family, the buck stops here, and what I do with this perpetual realization will ripple through the mood and the outlook my children will have to endure.
So I did what all crafters do. Bury myself in the same thing that brought me through many many nights of prayers for my soldier to come home, the very same thing that helps me time and time again to muddle through the many large decisions we have consistently have to make.
I found this pattern in a Fons and Porter quilting magazine, and grabbed my favorite fabrics and charged on through
I kind of just sliced and pieced and quilted in an almost haphazard manner. I didn't even think about how I was quilting through, nor was I careful or deliberate. I stopped once in a while to care for the kids, then I would get right on the machine and then quilt on through, not looking through what I had done recently. Emotionally made, I think.
I ended up quilting in lines. I hadn't realized it until I was completely done, but it reminded me of my moments in labor with Rafaella, where I would focus on the wallpaper in the labor room, and I would breathe through up and down the lines of the wallpaper pattern. Apparently this pattern is my path to zen. If this is so, I accept it.
And now that the quilt is done, I am ready to move on. Hubby took a deep breath with me. It is now hanging, and it is beautiful to see.