It was in the middle of machine quilting this one that I burst into tears. Not out of frustration. It was something else, something I didn't understand.
Something about working on a project that is for a person, not just a project that might one day have a home (like infinite numbers of baby hats, for instance), really puts a lot of mental energy into thinking about that person while you do it.
It wasn't until I started quilting this one that I realized it. Sure, I'd been thinking about Colleen and Tim while I quilted theirs, and probably some about Bevin while I cut up all that double knit, but it didn't strike me until I was finishing this one. Why do I keep thinking about Ian and Ashley and their baby? I kept asking myself. At the time, they were expecting a baby with Down Syndrome and we were all adjusting to this fact and worried for them. The whole time I was fiddling with this dang star (turns out, they are hard to make...) I kept thinking and thinking and finally just started to cry. I had to walk away and work on one for Mike's brother and sister-in-law. Got to think about weddings and San Francisco and cute apartments and kittens for a minute instead of heavy things.
As you probably know from my other blog, they lost the baby in early February and are still going through the emotional and mental calculus required to try to come to terms with that, all that. I know when I make this year's quilt for them, it will be tinged with this new sorrow and new worry and new hope. And it won't be a Lone Star. I need something easier, but more than that, I need something with a closer name. Something about a hearth or family ties.
I am completely impressed with the Lone Star - I feel they are very hard. I think sewing can be very emotional and cathartic - especially when sewing for loved ones. My prayers still go out to them.
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