October 28, 2009 - The Kingdom Quilt

     I often sleep under a quilt that was planned and orchestrated by my grandmother. It is a patchwork quilt made of small pieces of fabric that she sewed together to make a larger piece of fabric. This is the ultimate frugal act of a person who lived through the Great Depression and who had a hard time ever throwing anything away. The act of wasting a product, or any material, was always a sin worse than gossiping, the latter, actually and often acceptable, since it was explained away as sharing only out of concern for the implicated individual's soul.
     The small pieces of the quilt fabric are recognizable to me even after 50 years. The original uses of the larger pieces of fabric were to make house dresses, bonnets, or aprons. I especially remember the house dresses. Maybe you can remember the house dresses. These were dresses with collars, a button up front, and a couple of large patch pockets that always contained a mint, a kerchief, Tube Rose snuff, and a pair of scissors. I do not know why these were the things in the pockets, but they were always there and regularly in use.
     The patchwork quilt feels like family. The two outsides were pieced together from little scraps with a foot-pumped sewing machine by my grandmother in her attempt to make a warm blanket for not much money. I remember sleeping at my grandmother’s house on cold winter nights. I always slept in the front room, a room reserved for guests. On those cold and dark winter nights, after the sun disappeared, the circulating oil furnace was turned down, and the wood stove was allowed to burn down to coals, it was not long before a wise person figured out that when the house got cold, the only warm place to go was beneath the quilts on the bed. Grandmother would turn down the quilts in the front room, and I would slide underneath them. Notice I refer to “quilts.” One quilt was never enough. Grandmother would turn each quilt back up, tucking the encasement around my neck, layer by layer, until weight would be noticeable. Finally, lying under three or four quilts, a child encased beneath this remarkable weight was prevented from moving even a fraction of an inch in any direction. The resultant effect of this tucking-in was a warm feeling of security against a dark and cold night.
     I remember quilts being made. Once the two sides of small pieces of material were transformed into a large piece of cloth after miles of seams, the actual quilting began. The batting was sandwiched between both sides of patchwork fabric and then the whole thing was rolled up on a large frame, so only about 18 inches of the middle section was visible. When the framed contraption was suspended from the porch ceiling, my grandmother and aunts would gather on both sides with chalk, needles, thread, scissors, Tube Rose snuff, and finger thimbles. With deft and artistic fingers, the gathered family would work in unison, using chalk to mark out scallop arches that would then be “quilted,” to secure the batting between the sides, unrolling the completed quilt a foot or so at a time. As the women worked, they would take full advantage of the snuff and scissors in their house dress pockets, they would talk about old things in the past, new gossip of sinful souls in the present, and their quilting would be a warm hope for the times to come.
     My quilt is old and a bit frayed. I am very careful with it. One part of one edge has been damaged and repaired, causing a couple of gaps in the side. I am not sure how it was damaged, but it appears that fire may have been the culprit. I can imagine this quilt getting too close to a woodstove or a fire resulting in a little charred edge that was later repaired, since you will remember nothing was thrown away. These events all happened long before I received the quilt. These are memories only to which the quilt can witness.
     When I lie under the quilt, I can imagine the hands that constructed it. I can remember the pieces of cloth that are the material of the construction. I still, to this day, benefit from the work of unseen hands of thrifty and generous souls, who in the past provided for all the unknown sleepers in the future. Sleeping under this quilt is cathartic and comforting. I do not know of the actual work and plan, but I benefit from the physical evidence on cold nights.
     Surely this quilt is not unlike the gift of the Creator for us. This physical cloth offering is not far from the cathartic evidence of God’s unseen hand in our lives and in God’s provision in the places where we live. How could it be possible for us to ever move far from the bounty of our Savior? Where could we go to be away from God’s mercy and grace?
Psalm 139:7-12 “Whither shall I go from thy Spirit? Or whither shall I flee from thy presence? If I ascend to heaven, thou are there! If I make my bed in Sheol, thou art there! If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there thy hand shall lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me. If I say, ‘Let only darkness cover me, and the light about me is night,; even the darkness is not dark to thee, the night is bright as the day; for darkness is as light with thee.”
 Unseen hands, gracious provision, comfort and peace, and evidence of a source that is greater than our own workings: this gift is the great message today for a people who are prone to take such faithful provision for granted, and who too often believe that all that we have is due to our own wisdom and strength. Perhaps our accepting the patchwork gracious quilt of God as a true gift is the first step to knowing God’s kingdom in this life.   
Rev. Dan Martin is pastor of First UMC, Hendersonville. He can be reached at moose1953@hotmail.com