The Heirloom Quilt

The room is a chilly 65 degrees. It’s super dark. There are half a dozen heavy blankets on the bed.  This, my friends, is my classic formula for a wonderful night of sleep.

Recently, my husband was asking for Christmas present suggestions and I casually mentioned that I wanted to try the weighted blankets.  (Have you seen these blankets?!??!?! They are 20 or 40 pounds and lull you to sleep like you are an infant rocking in your momma’s arms!)

He looked at me, as though I’d threatened to cut off his pinky toe.  He responded, “You don’t need a weighted blanket. You have THE quilt.”

THE quilt is my favorite quilt.  THE quilt is large enough to cover a full bed, but just a tad too big for a twin bed.  THE quilt needs febreze frequently, as it’s way past the washing machine phase.  THE quilt probably weighs about 40 pounds. And yes, I have THE quilt.

The quilt was first sewn in the late 1800s by my great-great-grandmother in a small farming community of Wisconsin.  It was originally sewn from worn-out garments and was the definition of a “patchwork” quilt.

In 1920, my great grandmother sewed over that quilt with another layer of worn-out garments and scraps of fabric.  She tried her best to find feminine colors, as this quilt then became my grandmother’s quilt.  My grandmother recovered the quilt when she got married and again when she had my Aunt.

By 1950, the quilt was passed to my mom as her baby blanket with another layer added.  My mom added her own crazy quilt patchwork layer in the late 1960s, as she headed off to college.  She recovered it again in 1975 as my first blanket.  She taught me to sew and let me recover the quilt when I was 10 years old. After joining the military, I recovered the quilt again.

In 2013, I recovered the quilt one more time. But this time, I could not help but really concentrate on the love and history in this blanket.  The last four generations of my mom’s family have added to this blanket, simply by covering it up with another layer.  That concentration translated to an insatiable curiosity about what the layers-upon-layers looked like.  Could I touch fabric that my great-grandmother had sewn?

As I sewed the new covering, I thought about generational blessings.  I understand that the phrase “generational blessings” is not overtly found in scripture; however, there is evidence of how generations are blessed throughout the years.

Think about Matthew 1:1, where we see the genealogy of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham.  This is a verse that presents evidence of Jesus being the seed of Abraham.  While it does not say, “you will be blessed through all the previous generations,” it does indicate that we are indeed blessed by generational lineage.  A lineage that created the provision of the perfect Son of God, who came solely to die for us.  That is a generational blessing, indeed.

With scriptures in mind, I paused to give thanks to the Lord for that blessing and for providing a way to heaven through His Son. I also gave praise to a family of women who were resourceful in getting supplies to sew a quilt over 100 years ago.

And then I carefully cut through a seam in the middle of the quilt covering from when I was 19 and 10 years old. I cut through the quilt seam of my early childhood to my mom’s college years.  I cut through another seam and another seam…all through the years until I came to the very first thin layer of well worn-garments that was first sewn in the late 1800s.

It was dingy grey and threadbare.  Paper thin to the point I thought it may fall apart in my hands.  The tiny hand sewn stitches still holding fast after a century. As I sat looking at the seamstress work of my great-grandmother, I cried tears of happiness to have seen the center of the quilt.

I put a few loose stitches into each layer of the quilt and finally slipped the newest cover onto the old, yet still new, quilt.  A quilt of generational blessings.  THE quilt.

What family heirlooms that make your heart cry and smile in the same breath? Come tell us at the porch…

~Emily

 “For the Lord is good and his love endures forever; his faithfulness continues through all generations.” ~Psalm 100:5 (NIV)

quilt2

Looking Backwards

I play a lot of what if games with myself.  Mostly I play these mental games with myself when I’m driving on my long commute.

What if I won the lottery? I start thinking of all kinds of scenarios that could occur if I won the lottery.  Nevermind that I’d have to actually play the lottery to win.  What would be my first purchase? What charities would I support? What vacations would I take? Who would I buy a house or car for?

What if I ever won an Academy Award? I think through my acceptance speech.  Nevermind that I would actually have to be in the film or music industry.  Would I thank God first? Who else would get thanked?  Do I talk louder and faster as the music starts cueing me to get the heck off the stage?

I also play this what if game with relationships from my past. Both those I’ve dated or married, as well as those I was friends with.  What if I had done such and such differently? I wonder what would happen if I saw so and so on the street.  Would this friend recognize me? Did I tell them about Christ?  Would I ever go back to that relationship?

All of these what if games are seemingly innocent.

Or are they?

The lottery and the academy award acceptance speech indicate a fanciful longing for something I don’t currently have.  Does that mean I’m not content in my life, as it is?  For some, this may indicate a dissatisfaction with what you have or perhaps a desire for more…more…more.  In my case, it’s an exercise in thinking through what is important to me.  Who would I thank? Who would I support financially?

However, the other…the thinking of past relationships. That’s more dangerous.  In an age of social media, it’s super easy to track down the ex-boyfriends to “see how they are doing.”  What is the end result? Satisfaction or glee that they aren’t doing well?  Jealousy when you see they are doing well?  Anguish over your “what if it had worked out” scenario? Guilt and a feeling of betraying your current relationship?

That look backwards at the exes isn’t good for us. Looking back isn’t ever good for us. During the time of Sodom and Gomorrah, Lot and his family are leaving the burning of the city…the wrath of God for blatant disobedience.

In Genesis 19:17 (NIV), the angels speak to Lot “…Flee for your lives! Don’t look back, and don’t stop anywhere in the plain!  Flee to the mountains or you will be swept away!”

They flee. And they are specifically told not to look back. They run from the wrath and towards protection.  Except Lot’s wife can’t resist the temptation to look back. She was disobedient to God’s command.

“But Lot’s wife looked back and she became a pillar of salt.” Genesis 19:26 (NIV)

 While the rest of her family…the rest of her life ran forward, she lagged behind.  She turned and watched fiery sulfur fall from the sky consuming the city she had grown to love.  And that fire consumed her as well.  The scripture isn’t clear exactly why she was turned to a pillar of salt. It could be because she valued her past more than her future. It could be a consequence of disobeying God.  Regardless, she looks back over her shoulder and pays more attention to a burning city than she does the future, her family, and the command of her God.

When I play the “what if” game in regards to the relationships of my past, then I’m doing the same thing as Lot’s wife. I’m glancing back over my shoulder.  Nothing good comes from looking over our shoulders and staring into the past.  It takes our eyes off the Lord. It takes our eyes off of the future.  It takes our eyes off our current friends and family relationships.

While social media makes it easy, resist the temptation to become Lot’s wife. Don’t look back ladies…let’s encourage one another to look forward.

~Emily

Flee

 

 

 

The Green Coffee Mug

Coffee

As my mom handed me a cup of her freshly concocted Folgers instant coffee she said, “Here’s your frappa-wrappa-crappa with extra whip, almond milk, Hershey’s syrup and a drop of peppermint.”  We both laughed.  She loves to make fun of what she calls “the foofie coffee” that I prefer to drink.

The best part of this scenario?

My mom handed me that gross instant coffee in my grandma’s mug. It’s a tiny little 1970s avocado green cup, which I distinctly remember my grandma using in her own kitchen.  At age three, while waiting for news of my brother’s birth I drank OJ from a real glass cup and she had coffee…in the green mug. I remember her using the green mug when we visited at Christmas each year…a trek from Oregon to Arizona.  She had it in her hand while we picked grapefruit off the tree in her back yard and while she supervised her grandchildren’s use of her old-fashioned wooden clothespins. I remember my Grandpa bringing her the green mug with a fresh refill.

The day she had a stroke, that mug sat next to the sink with a coffee ring gluing it to the counter. An offensive stickiness that she would have never allowed had she known her kitchen looked less than her normal perfection.  And the morning after she died, I remember holding that mug in her backyard as the sun woke up.  I held that mug to my heart and told my God that He had better take good care of her until I could see her again.

There are so many memories wrapped up into this small mug.

It is a tiny mug in comparison to most American mugs.  It looks dwarfed by my Starbuck’s city mugs.  It’s not as tall as the pretty flowery mugs I love.  It’s itty bitty next to my ‘dreaming of owning my own bakery’ macaroon mug. It stands short next to the clay Air Force mug my parents gave me when I made my final promotion.

Ask Erin. I have dozens of mugs. I love them all for various reasons. They remind me of dreams, people, and places. I use them all.   Some at work, some at home. Some for coffee or tea…some for water.  Even the broken ones find their way into usefulness as penholders or new planters in the flowerbeds.

But the avocado green mug with its tiny little stature is my favorite mug.

All because of the memories associated with that little mug.  Good memories. And hard memories.

Our God is an amazing provider, who doesn’t hold anything back from us.  How many precious memories has He given me…and let me hold on to? Too many to count. And yet, here I am looking at this tiny little mug that represents the memories I have of one woman.  Imagine all the memories you have.  Both good and bad.  All those memories are markers of how much our God has provided for us.   The good memories to reflect on, the bad memories to learn from.

I am so very grateful for that little mug. For all my grandma memories associated with that mug. And for the new ones that mom continues to make for me.  Take a moment and reflect on what memories you have that remind you just how amazing our God really is for us.

~Emily

I thank my God in all my remembrance of you, always in every prayer of mine for you all making my prayer with joy, because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now.” ~Philippians 1:3-5 (ESV)

“But Abraham said, ‘Child, remember that you in your lifetime received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner bad things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in anguish.’” ~Luke 16:25 (ESV)