The following were posted on FB this morning.
Now I know why I like this ‘exercise’ so much! It’s a true work-out:
This posting caught at my heart:
Saddest Garage Sale Ever
By Edie McGinnis
basement or attic and donated to Goodwill. But the sign sucked me in, and I stopped.
The sign read, “Quilts $5.00”
I almost didn’t stop. Surely a quilt selling for $5 had to be some old, used-up rag of a comforter that had originally been purchased at Wal-Mart.
Curiosity got the better of me, though. I pulled over to the curb, got out of my car and started poking around. There was the usual assortment of odd cups and glassware. Boxes of outgrown children’s clothing decked the edge of the walk leading up to the house.
An older sewing machine, still in the cabinet, had been put alongside a table that held a stack of hand-pieced, hand-quilted quilts.
I started looking through the quilts. They were all made from scraps, and they looked as though they had never been used.
The young woman holding the garage sale wandered over to chat. She had two charming small children bashfully hanging onto her leg.
“Let me know if I can help you,” she said.
“Tell me about these quilts,” I replied.
“Oh, those old things?” she said. “My husband’s grandma made those. I’ve never liked them. I think she just used old rags and stuff. She said something about making this one from Grandpa’s old shirts. It was weird; she didn’t even go and buy new material.
“I found a down comforter that I really liked at Macy’s. It has a matching bed skirt and curtains. I don’t know why anybody would want one of these old patchy blankets when they could have a pretty set that matches.”
“Oh, thanks,” I said as I quickly turned back to the quilts. (I’m one of those people whose emotions show on her face, and I was sure my mouth was hanging open in disbelief.)
wondered how many hexagons she had cut for her Grandmother’s Flower Garden. Such tiny pieces! And the path she put between each “flower” was made of diamonds that looked to be about 1/4 inch finished.
The quilt that had been made using shirtings was a simple 9-patch. And I’m willing to bet that it held a million memories. They must have been every day shirts, and blue must have been his favorite color. The 9-patches were made up of squares of plaids, stripes and checks, with alternating squares of blue chambray.
How does one let family treasures such as these go? How can anyone touch a handmade quilt and not feel a connection to the maker? Why would anyone not save these for his or her children?
I didn’t buy any of the quilts. Instead, I walked sadly back to my car and headed for home.
I thought about all the quilts I have made and or purchased over the years. And now I am afraid of what might happen to these pieces that hold a world of memories for me. I wonder whether I have done a good enough job teaching my children to appreciate the work and time that went into each. Have I taught them the worth of handmade? Will they pass that onto their children?
I probably need to tell them about each quilt. They should know about the friends I have made and the fellowship that was shared as we stitched together an unbreakable bond of sisterhood.
Perhaps they need to know about some of the grief and fear that was stitched into some of my quilts. Maybe they need to understand what was going on in my life when I made some of the pieces and how quilting got me through some tough times.
Or maybe they just need to curl up under those quilts and wrap themselves in the softness and warmth. Someday, they might even run their hand over my stitches and feel the connection.
I’d far rather they would sleep under them, use them up, wear them out than stack them up on a table and sell them for $5 each. If they do that, there is no question in my mind that I will come back and haunt them.
This reminded me what my Sis-in-law said, just yesterday - when you give a quilt, let it go, no matter how it’s used, all is good as long as it’s used. So I’m grateful to see my quilts used, however the recipients choose to do so.
Happy quilting! Happy giving! Blessings, Peg