Quilt Therapy

Our local quilt group has a new member, whom we call Longarm Michelle (because she is the only one in our bunch who has a longarm!), who gave us a great tutorial on how to make fabric bowls last month in our meeting.  Here are some of the fabric bowls that Longarm Michelle has made:

Aren’t they cool?  For our quilt group, Michelle went way over-board.  She purchased the clothesline rope that we would need, she got a bunch of honey buns from me (and bought some herself), sewed six honey buns together, made biased tape out of each honey bun string, sewed half of the honey bun to each of our clothesline ropes as an example AND she bought us all this cool pair of medical tweezers that has little claws on the end (this helps hold your fabric together while you sew it onto the clothesline rope).  What generosity!

Because my poor blistered hands weren’t cooperating on Saturday, I decided to just take what Longarm Michelle had done and create a mini-fabric bowl out of it.  The rest of the rope and honey bun will have to wait for another time when my hands aren’t in a mutiny with my ambitions.

Here’s what my completed mini-fabric bowl looks like (and yes, if you noticed, I used a lighter thread on purpose so I could see what I was doing and where my mistakes may be):

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I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before, but we have a running joke in my husband’s family that we are lucky folks because we draw our birthdays out so long.  Usually, that means someone has forgotten to get you a gift, or they haven’t seen you in a while … so, you get a gift later and thereby, draw out your birthday for as many days as is possible.  I know my SIL gave me a gift at Christmas one year, and my birthday is in August.

But, I do believe (and I will definitely take this to the family for a vote), that I am the WINNER this year!  I received a very special gift in the mail yesterday:

Yup, my friend and quilt fabric supplier sent me a birthday present … in March … for my birthday in August!

It’s the latest “Shades of Blue” fat quarter bundle designed by Sentimental Studios from Moda.  Linda at www.AbbiMays.com knows I’m collecting fabrics that have the Texas state flower – the Bluebonnet – in it … and this is yet another set to add to my growing and wonderful stash!  I believe I bought my first yardage for this collection about 8 years ago, and my collection has grown and grown since then!  Unfortunately, I have a little problem right now in using it in the way I want to use it.  I wanted to re-decorate our bedroom so that it was full of bluebonnets.  Well, I’d have to get rid of all of the hunting prints, the turkey coins and stamps, the NRA-won prints and that shotgun shell fan pull that adorn our bedroom now.  I do have a quilt on the bed, and thank goodness it’s not in camo – but, that’s about the ONLY thing that’s “mine” in our bedroom!  lol

THANK YOU Linda – I’m pretty sure you made ME the WINNER in the family birthday contest this year!

My blog has been on the blitz for a week and I just haven’t had time to correct it – until this evening, when I made time.  It’s such a release for me to be able to write down life and loves, it truly IS my quilt therapy!

My middle daughter tried out for the JV cheer squad last week, and didn’t make the team…so, there’s been a little extra TLC needed for her.  The son-man had a meeting with our Pastor last week and earned his God & Family award for Scouts, so he’ll be presented with that medal at church, after the Easter holiday.  Our eldest has been on the usual teenage roller-coaster and amazingly our youngest daughter has been on the same type of roller-coaster lately, too.  UGH   I keep reminding myself that the kids are our entertainment, else I’m not sure I’ll make it through the various stages of their development.

I’ve also been working my tail off.  Lots going on in my work world.  Not to mention helping develop a fundraiser at church for the youth to be able to take a mission trip this summer, helping get a Wednesday meal ready that the youth are serving next week, doing my usual assisting with the Sacred Arts class at church that our two youngest kids take plus my usual running the kids in 20 different directions each week.  Whew, I need quilt therapy!

Lucky for me, I received my www.quiltsforkids.org package from Downy in the mail last week:

It was free and it contains not just the cut fabric, the pattern but also a tag for the quilt!  I can’t wait to make the quilt and hope the kids give me time this weekend to put it together for a special child in need of some quilted love.

You may also notice the header above.  I was able to sneak into my sewing room on Saturday morning and put those six blocks together for my foster cousin – she will then make six for her and six for me (out of our own fabrics we chose) and when finished, we’ll both have 12 blocks to put together into a special quilts that each of us can treasure for years to come.

Quilt on!

I’m one of those parents who throws a FIT if one of my children brings home a note from school that has spelling and/or grammatical errors in it.  This should NOT happen.  These people are teaching MY children – and yours, too!  There are so many tools that can be used to check spelling and grammar — but, they are not infallible.  Just sitting down and actually reading what you wrote could possibly save a teacher or school from a critical parental letter from me!

On Saturday, my hubster was a judge for the Junior Ag Mechanics show (notice, that is not shown as possessive – according to the powers that be for the event – who are ALL educators).  I toodled around with his judging group, acting as a gopher, photographer and all-around entertainment … just because I’ve been busy with kids for so many years that I never got to enjoy some of the extracurricular activities that my husband attended.

But, I was stopped in my tracks by the following sign, that was on a number of exhibits from a particular school (I have removed the school’s name, to protect the innocent):

Do you see what I see?  At first, I just walked around the sign, to make sure I was seeing what I thought I saw.  Then, I asked the collegiate FFA assistant that was assisting my husband’s group if she thought that “tomorrows” should be possessive.  Heck, she’s a graduating college student, surely she would have taken English 101 and would know.  ummm, not so much.  Then, I asked a judge or two what he thought – just because it was DRIVING.  ME.  NUTS.  All of the judges in our group are well-educated and work, in some way or another, in an ag-related field – two actually holding teaching certificates in our great state of Texas.  I didn’t expect them to be as retentive as I was about this egregious error…but, I did expect them to know the difference between whether a word was possessive or not.  Not so much there, either.

But, it still made me whip my neck around every time I saw a sign that was missing an apostrophe!

As we were leaving the building, I came upon another sign from the same school:

Ahhh.  I felt so much better.  Except for the fact that half of their signs were WRONG – and their teachers that were attending the event with them should be forced to personally fix every single sign that had errors.  With paintbrushes.  Held with their teeth.  And then, their photos should appear on a shameful teacher website for allowing their students to show up to such a prestigious event with signs that were grammatically incorrect.  Shame on them.

My quilting virtual best friend forever, Pat Sloan (famed quilt designer), designed and posted this photo the other day to a group that we belong to:

Guess she thinks we’re funny – she’s a city slicker and we’re country folk.  I guess when I talk about living in the hills without a phone, wrangling our chickens (NOT pigs) and not being able to run down the block to the grocery store makes her think I’m a country bumpkin!

Ok, I am a country bumpkin – and this photo gave me a good laugh.  What are friends for?

Today is Ash Wednesday on the church calendar.  A special day, a humbling celebration of the simplicity of life’s beginning and end.

Today is also the day that my first cousin is being buried.  Fitting?  I’d say so.  She, too, will return to ashes.

I will not lie, there has been drama with her passing (frankly, I can’t think of a single funeral with that side of my family that hasn’t involved drama of some sort).  It has upset me and hurt me deeply.  I chose not to go to her funeral before the drama began – and thanked God that I made that decision once the drama started.  I will grieve in silence at home, with my family by my side.  I can only turn to God at times like that and lift up those who are doing the hurting in prayer, because that is how He taught us to live our lives:  lift up thine enemies in prayer.  I don’t really see those who have done the hurting as enemies, but giving the issues to God is my way of life.

But, good has come from the drama, too.  Mostly, the knowledge that I am loved unconditionally by a select few – those few are the ones who took me into their homes and hearts when no one else would, oh so many years ago.  And the knowledge that just because someone is part of your family tree, that doesn’t mean you have to let them into your life.  I’ve said it over and over again lately – I will only allow love into my home.  I deserve it, my husband deserves it and our children deserve it.  Nothing but love.  I will always be a disappointment to those who don’t allow God to control their lives, because they believe they have the control.  Fortunately for me, God IS my Father and He will never again allow me to be that child that so many threw away years ago.

It’s the dash between the dates on your tombstone that will tell the truth about your life on earth.  What will your dash say?

Our DD#2 started confirmation classes at our church two weeks ago, and Pastor gave her a binder to keep her work organized. 

On Saturday night, she left the binder on the table with a note on it that said, “Mom, will you please make me a REALLY COOL cover for my CONFORMATION book?”

I laughed at my daughter’s poor spelling.

Then I laughed some more, because she really didn’t know what she had written – or the ramifications that the incorrect spelling would have on the actual context of how the word was used in relation to confirmation.

I got sassy for a minute, and made this cover for her book:

Hubby and I giggled about it, because that really IS the question for anyone — do we conform or confirm with regard to our faith? 

On Sunday, DD#2 gave the paper to Pastor, without giving him any background info.  So, as I was leaving the church, I explained the note she’d left and why I put that cover together.  He laughed … and I asked what he thought the chances were of the kids conforming or confirming.  He just smiled, and as he walked away, he said quietly – “Conform?  Your kids?  Not a chance.”

hmmmm, how should I take that?!

Had our mom lived, she would have been 68 years old today.  I can’t imagine what she’d be like, since she passed away in 1977 at the age of 35.  Of course, I can just peer in the mirror to have an inkling of what she’d have looked like since I seem to favor her looks in many ways.

Mom and Dad (Patricia Elizabeth Hickey Spencer and Raymond Lee Spencer) had six children.  Michelle Spencer Barbor (1961), Michael Spencer (1963-1997), me (1964), Thomas Spencer (1965), Jeffrey Spencer (1967) and James “Jamie” Spencer (1969-1969). 

Happy Heavenly Birthday, Mom!  You were loved.

This is a hard post to write.  Any post about death is hard, but since most of my family has died, it’s pretty hard for me to write about another one.

My first cousin Cathy passed away in the night, after-effects of a hip replacement surgery she had last week. 

Cathy and her husband Loren raised my older brother Mike.  He was with them, helping Loren’s dad move, just hours before Mike died of a brain aneurysm in 1997.  They were his family, and their daughters were special to him.

Did I mention that Cathy named her CAT after me?  And that cat lived a long and happy life, even though it had my name.  I’ve had a niece named after me, but not a cat before!

Cathy has been working on me for over a year, trying to pull me into the family loop.  I’ve been resistant, to say the least, and if you knew about my family’s history, you’d probably understand why.  Although Cathy said I was her favorite when I was little, her dad hated me because I looked like my mother – so, I became the “throw-away” child when our dad died and our mom abandoned us.  No one wanted me.  That left a very long life of bitterness on my end, as I traveled from one foster home to another … knowing that I wasn’t wanted by my own family.  Well, I wasn’t wanted by my dad’s side of the family.  Luckily, my uncle on my mom’s side took me in and finished raising me.  Grateful doesn’t begin to explain how I feel about them, but they took a chance and I think I turned out ok – and I give them all the credit for that.

Because God is my Father and Jesus is my Savior – I know that Cathy is on her way to everlasting life, and she believed the same.  I know she’s exactly where she should be, according to His plan - and hopefully she’s giving my brother a big ole’ heavenly hug right now for the both of us.  But, I also know that her mother, husband, daughters, grandchildren, nieces, etc. are suffering from their loss.  I hope it’s acceptable for me to join that group, without offending anyone, and say that I’m suffering a bit, too. 

Before Christmas, Cathy sent me family photos from days gone by.  Lots of photos of my dad’s side of the family, as well as a number of my brothers as they were growing up.  She took hours going through photos and copying them for me, because she knew that I had little or nothing by way of tangible memories of our family. 

She cared about me, even though it took me many years to accept that.  I’m a tough bird to crack, but she was slowly peeling away the layers of my bitterness to show me that even if I felt I wasn’t part of that side of the family, she believed I was.  At least part of her family.  And I was starting to believe that. 

Now, I can only try to find joy in the knowledge that God has plans for her in heaven, better plans than what she thought He had planned for her to do on earth. 

Cathy – thank you for trying to help me find good in people that I always saw as bad.  Thank you for trying to help me see that I had a place in the family, even if I resisted.  Thank you for sharing yourself with me.  And thank you for loving me.  God’s Peace to you as you make your way Home.