Queen B

Let me introduce you to Bernita, seated, in this photo; here she is with her quilting buddies yesterday. Bernita is a resident in a local care facility, a lifelong seamstress and crafter who was bitten by the quilting bug in 1961 when she was gifted a Sunbonnet Sue baby quilt at a baby shower for her soon-to-be-born daughter.  

                                                         The quilt that started it all!

Yesterday Bernita was honored at her residence by presenting a one-woman quilt show; wonderful in absolutely every way! Bernita showcased a body of work through the years that could be rivaled by none. Amazingly, and to her absolute attention to detail and organization, she has documented each work of art with the quilt's name, date, where she was living at the time, who the quilt was made for and what inspired its creation. This documentation is such a gift in itself! I am so happy that she had this opportunity to share her love of quilts with all of her friends and loved ones in such a special way! 

As you can see here, her many quilts are varied and exceptional,both in craftmanship and detail. I asked her if she felt like "Queen For A Day?" She smiled and said "yes, you can call me Queen B"! I will do that, for sure! I'm including the poem that she recited below, maybe some of you are familiar with it. It is precious. I've been bitten by that same bug and am so thankful every day that there is no known cure. Congratulations, Bernita! You are an inspiration!

Life is Good!

If Your Life Were A Quilt...

...what would it look like?  Think about that for a second. Would it be bright all over or would it contain dark areas? Would it have mistakes, inconsistent stitches, small rips and tears that may have been mended (or not), star points missing here and there or would it be perfect? Would each block be similar or would there be variety? What would your life-as-a-quilt reveal?  I recently attended a memorial service for a friend's mother; her name was Zelma. My friend, Carla, is a fellow church member, the service was held in our church. Carla's Mom was a quilter, at age 97 she still stitched every single day, right up until she was hospitalized earlier this year. Carla told me that her Mom would rise in the morning and go straight away to her sewing machine, (like it was her job!) she'd piece quilt tops all day long. She donated countless quilt tops to charitable causes throughout her lifetime and, to this day, has left over 100 quilt tops stacked neatly in a cupboard outside of her bedroom. Our Pastor's memorial sermon has stayed with me. I share those words below, with his permission. It should be noted that this Memorial Service was held on National Quilting Day, I am sure that Zelma was smiling from her Heavenly home with that knowledge. 

Memorial Sermon

I perceived that there is nothing better for them than to be joyful

and to do good as long as they live; also that everyone should eat

and drink and take pleasure in all his toil—this is God's gift to man.

There’s a particular love that one knows when they receive a

handmade quilt from someone. Chances are, somewhere in our

homes tucked away in a closet, we all have a quilt we received a

long time ago from someone who made it for us out of love. And if

this quilt is handmade, we know it isn’t just something to keep us

warm, but it’s a treasured item, one that carries

memories-stitched together out of care for us.

Those who knew Zelma Rohde in her life with us know how much

she loved to quilt, a gift she has undoubtedly passed down to her

daughter Carla. And in this love of quilting, there’s so much we

can learn about Zelma’s life and the kind of person she is. To quilt

for someone is to labor in love and express....in precise,

hand-stitched detail...what that person means to you.

If the life of Zelma was sewn into a quilt and spread out before us,

what would we see? I imagine we would see something

resembling our first reading in Ecclesiastes: For everything there

is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.

Zelma’s life quilt would undoubtedly be large and thick, because

Zelma lived a long and full life with us. And now, as we look back

on this full life of Zelma, we can see all the times and seasons of

her life as one, beautiful, stitched-together masterpiece.

Zelma’s quilt begins with fabric of her time to be born, and today

we remember it has received its final stitch in her time to die.

But between the first and last stitch of a quilt, there is so much

that happens in between. In Zelma’s life, she had times to plant,

and times to pluck up what was planted.

It’s my understanding that along with quilting, Zelma was an avid

gardener. And I’ve learned that gardening can teach anyone who

puts effort into it important virtues...primarily patience. And from

this we know Zelma knew patience, when to reap the rewards of

her labor, and when to have just a little more patience to see her

projects through.

A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time

to build up.

If this life quilt of Zelma were honest, it wouldn’t shy away from

stitching together the difficult times and seasons. Seasons in

Zelma’s life when things were dark, when she needed her own

healing. But we would also see a rich tapestry of the seasons

when she was there to build someone up in love and

encouragement.

A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time

to dance.

When we remember the life of Zelma, it’s only natural to

remember both the times of joy and the times of hardship.

Memories of laughing with her, and maybe even weeping with her.

But like a quilt of many colors, those dark times bring out a

boldness in the bright colors of her laughter and joy. Because it is

in these times when we see the love of her Lord, Jesus Christ

most perfected in her.

A time to seek, and a time to lose; A time to keep, and a time to

cast away; A time to tear, and a time to sew.

The memory of Zelma full life, and the lives of all our faithfully

departed, cause us to reflect on our own, incomplete lives. Today,

we observe the life quilt of Zelma after receiving its final stitch, but

each of us have our own life quilts that are still being sewn and

stitched together. And one day, just like today for Zelma, those

closest to us will look back on all the stitches and fabrics of our

life.

At first, this might make us nervous to think about...every stitch?

What about the bad stitches in my life? What if there are fabrics in

my past that I’ve completely ruined?

Let us remember how Zelma sought to fix her stitches - through

the correcting, love of Jesus Christ, who has labored in love for us

and expressed....in precise, hand-stitched detail...what we mean

to Him upon the cross.

Zelma trusted Jesus to tear away the ruined fabric from her quilt

and sew back the perfect cloth of His righteousness. And now, by

faith in Him, Zelma lives on in His Resurrection from the dead.

In the same way, we can trust in Jesus to stitch His mercy in us in

those places we may need it most.

As we remember the life of Zelma, let us see her life as a quilt

God has stitched together out of love for us. Her life is one that

will always keep us warm in times of hardship, and it will always

carry memories stitched together by the grace of her maker and

Savior: Jesus Christ, her Lord, Amen.

- Reverend Matt Knuppel

Grace Lutheran Church

18 March 2023

And so, if YOUR life is arrayed to the world as a quilt, what will it reveal about you? I pray that my life's quilt will display rich, happy colors. I hope it will show that I gave good effort and always tried to do my best, that my life was one lived in faith; and, also, like Zelma, that I might rise and contentedly stitch for as long as I am physically able! 

What a precious, tangible, legacy that would be!

Life is Good!

Fannye's Legacy

I'm preparing binding today for this scrappy Bear Paw quilt. Sundance helped me out to get it to this point, quilted and ready to finish. Fannye Hall died very unexpectedly four year ago; she was the matriarch of our local guild, mentor to the masses in these parts. I purchased this as a top of hers at an auction a while back, the proceeds going to benefit my aforementioned guild, a fund-raising idea of which she would definitely approve! Time and circumstances have bound us together forever on this project, I have a feeling she would be pleased with this collaboration. Fannye can rest assured that I will bind this quilt with care and precision, she'd expect nothing less from me. It was she who taught me how to bind a quilt properly; how turn a sharp, square corner, one of which we could both be proud. Fannye's legacy lives on. I still miss her, but today I recognize it's the blessing of having known her that will endure into tomorrow through every quilt of my own.

Life is Good!

Talk To Me, Fannye

Fannye Hall was the matriarch of our quilt guild, she died unexpectedly in December 2005. She taught almost everyone in our county, and beyond, to quilt. She attended every meeting and saw to it that they were run properly. After her death a collection of quilt tops were discovered by her family and generously donated to the guild that Fannye loved, to be auctioned with the proceeds going toward guild projects and education. This split hexagon was one of them. I didn't purchase this one, my friend Nane did. She appliqued the edges to the solid navy border and for some reason I volunteered to quilt it for her! I don't normally do things like that, I surprised myself! "What have I gotten myself into?", I worried. Then I laughed, thinking all along that it was Fannye who made me do it, she always had a way of recruiting volunteers! All summer the prepared top has languished in the closet, I loaded it on Tuesday and said a little prayer, I talked to Fannye as I threaded the machine and asked her what she wanted me to do on this one. I was prepared to quilt swirls and squiggles in and out of each little half-hex. "Talk to me, Fannye" I implored. I turned Sundance on and we got started, in and out, back and forth, round and round. I was mesmerized by both the rhythm of the movements and the diverse collection of fabrics that Fannye had hand-stitched together. I finished the first section and advanced the roller to begin again. "What do you think, Fannye?" I asked out loud. Her answer popped into my head. "It's a lot more work than I would have put into it!" I laughed again, "really?" I asked her. "It's nice" came the response. Was I imagining Fannye's responses? I don't know. I asked her to talk to me, she was a woman of few words; I hope she approves.

Life is Good!