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The Quilters
A Sermon Given
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| This was a piece of my wedding dress, Love and laughter and tenderness, And this sprigged muslin, color of corn, I wore right after my John was born. Pieces of lives, patches and tatters, All of the precious, the little, the matter of our lives. Pieces of lives, stitches and secrets, Pieces of women's lives. Pieces of lives, swatches and notions, All the unspoken emotion, devotion of our lives! Pieces of lives, stitches and secrets, Pieces of women's lives! |
Story . . . . . . . . . . ."The Keeping Quilt" by Patricia Polacco
Anne Herndon
Dramatized by Caitlin Brodnick, Ben Byrd, Julia Grubman, and Greta
Pemberton;
Directed by Dianne Seiffert
Reading and Reflections
Peg Peterson
The heritage of quilting in this country is long and deep. In the early days,
of course, it was above all a practical art. "Quilting for cover" literally
making coverings to keep the family warm on cold winter nights was a necessity,
not an option. And everything, every scrap of fabric, was put to use; worn-out
or out-grown dresses contributed patches as did old overalls and wool trousers.
Now, the quilts made from those overalls and pants were certainly warm, but
they weren't always real pretty. Sometimes, though, the quilters found ways
to make their quilts beautiful as well as useful. In many cases, that artistry
was founded on strong emotions gratitude, for instance, or love or affection
that somehow came to be expressed best in this physical form. One of the
stories from the book The Quilters tells about a quilt made for a minister
in the 1890s. That story seems to mirror the beginnings of the quilting journey
begun here at Cedar Lane in 1992 with the making of Ken and Harriet MacLean's
quilt.
| Two or three months after we homesteaded here in '90, Mrs. Wilcox told
me about Pastor Williams. He was a big person in our lives the traveling
Methodist preacher. Well, a finer man you never saw. He had a head of hair
into his eighties. I recall when we had my sister's wedding he was supposed
to join 'em, when a late norther came up, blowing sleet and the wind piercin'.
Well, he come through. Traveling those long distances from one part of the territory to another, and always helping out when he could. If you had a wagon stuck in the ditch, he'd pitch in same as any man after services or before for that matter. He always just come and went . . . on to the next congregation that needed the word. Well, Mrs. Wilcox got the idea to put up a quilt for him. Something special. We only had time to guilt for cover in those days settlin' in. They weren't pretty. But in this quilt we did for the pastor we outdid ourselves appliqueing each one of us a block. And we sent out the word by him along the circuit for ladies of other congregations to send a design for the top; he could carry them little appliqued pieces easy in saddlebags, no weight to 'em. We gathered it all in and put that quilt together. That was a feat in those days. He said he never seen anything so pretty. It was a treasure. Later when we got our church built, we put together lots of Album or Friendship quilts for folks getting married or moving away, but they never took the place of that first one. |
Anthem
Quiltin' and Dreamin'. . . . . . . . . Barbara Damashek
| Settin' there under the quiltin' arbor of an afternoon in the spring. It was the fourteenth day of April, and the meadow larks did sing.
Thinkin' while quiltin' though blue, pink, and purple,
Quiltin' and dreamin' a dream on every stitch,
Settin' there under the quiltin' arbor
Quiltin' and dreamin' a dream on every stitch, |
Reading and Reflections
Lyn Peters
Susanne McCoy, whom many of you know, took up quilting several years ago
and has recently won awards in national quilt shows and exhibitions. She
participates in several quilting groups, both here at Cedar Lane and in the
Washington area, and in Florida, where she spends time during the year. She
couldn't be here today, but she brought in a number of her quilts to be part
of the beautiful display at the tables around the sides of the auditorium.
These two here [hanging on the podium and the chalice table] are hers, part
of her chalice series. And she passed along some of her thoughts about this
traditional yet very modern art:
| How can I say what quilting is? It is an activity, it is a community
of people who are accepting regardless of education level, financial status,
one of the only places I'm never asked what I do or did, where no one seems
to care but they are delighted to see anything you've done in the monthly
"Show and Tell" session. For me, it is also an opportunity to create, to
break through patterns of thinking and say "why not" to new shapes, colors,
designs for fabric is the most pliable and forgiving of mediums. If something
doesn't fit, put in another strip. Early African-American quilters called
these "coping strips" and that is also a metaphor for how we live our lives.
Quilting is tremendous sharing, tremendous healing. At weekly quilting bees in Florida we exchange ideas about the blocks and quilts in our laps, we ooh and ahh over new fabrics from this store or that, but we also hear about Rose's recovery from surgery, we sympathize with Norma as she struggles with her husband's despondency, with me as I try to cope with my stepdaughter's problems. Quilting is a sense of excitement as a new idea comes together from several sources, a sense of completion and closure, when a quilt is done. It's still about covering beds. But it's not, nor was it ever, about just covering beds. It was about making do. It's about sharing fabric, feelings, cares, food. And it was, and is, about coping from the coping strips to coping with life, giving vent to the joy and the pain, giving and receiving. |
Anthem
Who Will Count the Stitches?/Everything Has a Time . . . Barbara Damashek
| Twenty-five years to make a comfort that is longer lasting than a life. Twenty-five years I labored gladly. Who will count the stitches?
Sarah the child and child bearer, the wife and woman I was taken for. Every log in my house, straight as a pine.
Everything has a time, and early in the mornin'
I've done my portion of creatin' |
Meditation
Roberta Nelson
"Thanks Be for These"
For the invisible stitches that hold together the fabric of our lives.
For this community pieced together by our unique stories and experiences.
For all that holds us together through the joys and sorrows of living.
Thanks be for these.
For the bounty of our lives, and for the compassion to share it.
For the larger community of which we are a part.
Thanks be for these.
For family rituals,
for family voices,
for fond memories that linger.
Thanks be for these.
For form out of chaos,
for pleasure in pattern, color, design,
for imagination and creativity.
Thanks be for these.
For gifts of the spirit,
for mystery and wonder that beckons,
for the irrepressible joy of living.
Thanks be for these.
For wisdom and foolishness,
for the vision of creation,
for all that is sacred and holy.
Thanks be for these.
Offertory
Never Grow Old / Hands, All Hands Around . . . Barbara Damashek
| I have heard of land on a far away strand, it's a beautiful home of the soul. Built by Jesus on high, where we never will die, it's a land where we'll never grow old.
In that beautiful home, Pieces of lives, all the unspoken emotion, devotion of our lives.
Hands, all hands around,
Hands, all hands around,
Stretch them out over troubled waters, |
Readings and Reflections
Leah Mazade
It really looks different in here today, doesn't it? The beautiful quilts you see up here are the products of hours of labor and the work of dozens of "hands all around," as the song says. But we don't live on the frontier; this isn't the 18th or 19th century. Why do we spend all this time, especially in today's frantic world, making what we could probably buy for $79.95 in some discount linen store?
This morning you'll hear some of Cedar Lane's quilters explain what it is
about this old-fashioned art that gives them so much joy and satisfaction.
But first, a little background about quilting here at the church. Cedar Lane
has been involved in quilting for a long time. Maybe it's the effect of the
windows and that patchwork-like pattern in the shoji screens. The quilts
you see here go back to 1992. The first one that's the blue-grey one over
there on your left was made for Ken and Harriet MacLean after Ken retired
as minister here. The three hanging up here were made to be raffled off in
the annual Heart's Desire auction. The latest is the quilt made to celebrate
the marriage of Alida DeCoster and Perry Beider. And down there, in process,
is the quilt for this year's auction. But interest in quilting and quilts
here goes back much further than 1992 at least to the early 1960s. Winifred
DuMars shared her memories of a very special quilt event that took place
right in this room. Here's what she wrote:
| Back in 1961 or 1962 when I was Women's Alliance President, we had a
program about quilts at one of our meetings. Now this was in the dark ages,
when few people were interested in nor knew much about making quilts and
their fascinating history. But to our surprise, we discovered just about
everyone in our group had an interest in quilts.
After the luncheon (we had potluck luncheons then even as today), we went into the auditorium. The whole space was covered with quilts, draped on walls and spread over all the chairs. Word had gone out inviting everyone to bring their quilts and to be prepared to tell what they knew of them. It was spectacular, to say the least. So many variations and patterns! So you see, Cedar Lane was truly in the Avant Garde way back then in this old-fashioned way. That meeting was the talk of the town. |
That Alliance meeting took place more than 30 years ago. Since then, quilting
has become more and more a part of well, the fabric of our lives, if you'll
pardon the pun. Quilting groups and quilt shows and books and classes keep
springing up all over the country. You know something is going on when you
have a major motion picture entitled "How to Make an American Quilt." The
notion of group quilting is part of the tradition, but it has a very practical
basis: it gets the job done. At Cedar Lane, the quilting group has a solid
core of about a dozen people and then lots of others who move in and out
as the demands of their lives allow. All of these people keep coming back
for more piecing, more quilting. Diana Thompson used the word "quilting"
to summarize her feelings about it and the people involved in the group:
| Q is for quiet reflection U, unity of theme, colors, and shapes I, inspiration gained from each other and from the task L, learning an historical craft T, togetherness with the quilting group I, interesting conversation N, new friends G, growing in friendship and in quilting skill" |
Diana also adds: "Our quilting group is FUN! We are creating two lasting legacies: friendship and quilts!"
Friendship. I think that's part of why we all quilt. We're not the regular kind of friends, perhaps; we may not socialize together in the usual ways. We're quilting friends. We talk with each other while we're stitching about a lot of things. Not gossip gossip is talking about other people. We talk about ourselves and the things that matter to us. This sense of community that group quilting affords is part of what first brought Carolyn Grassel to quilting, but she soon discovered other rewarding aspects as well.
Carolyn Grassel
I was told that a good way to get to know our church was to find a group in which to participate. I found the Cedar Lane Quilters. My very first quilting project ever was the MacLean Quilt. It was a wonderful introduction to this varied form of ornamental needlework.
Quilting is many things to me. It is genetic. My family uses its hands to create, to work, to comfort. My mother appliqued a teddy bear quilt many years ago that all 3 of her children used. As the youngest, I remember it being tattered but welcoming just the same.
It is a meditative experience. I love the geometry, colors, and textures of the fabrics. I can become so absorbed in my stitching and watching my hand maneuver the needle in and out of the fabric that I sometimes miss the conversations of my fellow quilters.
It is a very special fellowship.
I believe that quilts are like life itself. They are a process, they tell a story, they remember for us.
Leah
Indeed, quilts do remember for us. They're memories that we can hold in our
hands, that warm us both physically and spiritually. Woman whom we know only
as Aunt Jane of Kentucky wrote most tellingly at the turn of the century
about that idea:
| I've been a hard worker all my life, but 'most all my work has been the kind that "perishes with the usin'," as the Bible says. That's the discouragin' thing about a woman's work. . .if a woman was to see all the dishes that she had to wash before she died, piled up before her in one pile, she'd lie down and die right then and there. I've always had the name o' bein' a good housekeeper, but when I'm dead and gone there ain't nobody goin' to think o' the floors I've swept, and the tables I've scrubbed, and the old clothes I've patched, and the stockin's I've darned. But when one of my grandchildren or great-grandchildren sees one o' them quilts, they'll think about Aunt Jane, and wherever I am then, I'll know I ain't forgotten. |
Until recently, quilting has been almost exclusively "in the hands of women." But like other parts of our society, the gender barriers are slowly dissolving, and some quilting groups are fortunate enough to include men. Cedar Lane's is one of those. Now what would persuade a man to take up quilting? David Yano tells why he quilts.
David Yano
The most immediate answer is because I like to.
If you want more of an answer, I guess I'd say that quilting is a metaphor for life. It is multi-layered, multi-tasked, intricate, and interconnected. It takes vision, foresight and imagination, planning, care and dexterity; perseverance, patience, and enthusiasm; confidence, pride and humility; resignation, understanding, wisdom and practicality all of these things and more go into making a quilt.
Most of all, quilting extends your life, for it is meditative and therapeutic. You go through life one stitch at a time, and each stitch is as important as the next.
For those who ask why I, as a male, quilt, I do it for them. So some day, maybe they may be free to do what they wish undaunted by social pressure, both real and imagined.
Leah
The quilting group at Cedar Lane is a wonderful experiment in community. We mix and swirl around each other like the pieces in the quilts we make. But there's a warm, gentle presence at the center, the heart, of the group that keeps those pieces from flying out every which way. The group has several strong quilting arms, people who've quilted for a long time, who have experience working in all phases of the process. But I think no one would deny that the leader of the group is Julie Hubbard. She teaches the Spring B class each year that generally marks the beginning of work on the next auction quilt. And it is her artist's eye that for the most part has guided and shaped the designs of most of the quilts you see up here. Like most artists, the process fascinates her as much as the final product.
Julie Hubbard
Literally all of my life, there's been stitching. Since my earliest memory, my mom has both given and received great and inspiring pleasure from the work of her hands knitting, cross stitch, needlepoint, embroidery, crochet. I learned all of these from her, and then I discovered quilting.
This is, for me, the perfect needle art, a combination of all the others, plus something more. Quilting connects me with a period in history that fascinates me. Pioneer and frontier women were brave and strong; they made do with little. They joined shreds and tatters of fabrics into quilts to keep their families warm. Many found ways to combine their scraps to make them beautiful. And I imagine that, out of the physical demands, the loneliness, even fear, of their daily lives, in this creative process, their spirits soared. They came together to quilt in groups and these gatherings were bright spots in their otherwise ruggedly separate lives. And, in many cases, their quilts survive them and bear them witness.
Today, quilting does the same things for me. I do not have buffalo stampeding outside my door, but making quilts makes me feel competent and creative; the process is comforting and so are the results. I find friendship, encouragement, and support in this community of quilters. And perhaps the quilts I make will connect me with a future I will not see.
Quilting fully satisfies my need to feel creative. Even if I make a pattern 150 years old, the decisions about colors, fabrics, size and setting, and combinations of blocks are mine. I love the first steps in the making of a new quilt and enjoy moving through my days with the company of an emerging quilt design filling my head. In the middle of shopping, cleaning, carpooling, even church, I'll grab a scrap of paper and pencil to work through some design problem. It's a wonderful distractedness, the designing of a quilt.
Mapping out the detailed design is the next step, first on paper, then with plastic templates. This requires a degree of concentration and precision that I don't often exercise in the busyness of family life. This satisfies me greatly and, incidentally, gives me a sense of competence in an area that frankly amazes me. The structure of a quilt block is pure geometry, something I knew in the ninth grade I could never master. Quilting taught me geometry; I actually "get" it. I even use it, quite often nowadays.
Selecting fabrics for a quilt is almost euphoric; I am a "color" person, thanks also to my mom colors anti textures and the ways they combine are the background music of my life. I love to use and re-use favorite fabrics. I like that frugality, and I like it when old friends keep showing up. But walking into a huge quilting fabric store, stacking up bolts of new fabrics 'til they mix and balance and work well together, and then taking home some of each is my favorite luxury.
Piecing a quilt is good for my soul. The quiet repetition of something I know I can do well make tiny, even, careful stitches into a good, strong seam is most reassuring. And in the peacefulness of stitching there is time for contemplation. Every completed block is an accomplishment; every pinned-up block waiting to be stitched is a new beginning. I turn a finished block over and over in my hands before putting it aside to begin a new one. I study it, revisit the selection and placement of its pieces. One piece might have been darker or richer, paler or softer. Perhaps I'll do the next block differently.
The actual quilting is the final stage. Enormously time-consuming, but gratifying, quilting gives a third dimension to my otherwise flat creation. As with piecing, quilting stitches, at best, are tiny and neat, but quilting stitches remain visible. Here, the care taken in the work will be seen, and will say something about the stitcher. I know that I am currently torturing our Carrie with the extreme and lengthy care I am putting into her quilt. But I am stitching myself into it. I have designed quilting patterns for her quilt and for Lissie's that are about things I love flowers, butterflies, leaves, music, our pets, even sayings that are important to me, including these favorite words, spoken by Mother Theresa: "Do ordinary things with extraordinary love."
And that, in sum, is what quilting is to me. No step along the way to a finished quilt will shake the earth at its foundation, but each and every step, carefully taken, becomes an expression of love. Our daughters will sleep under the quilts I am making for them one day; if we live long enough, Henry and I will, too. My quilts will keep my family warm, which any electric blanket could do. But hand-made quilts, in their very ordinariness their small stitches and their time-honored approaches to pattern and design are reminders and symbols of what I value: quality, caring, creativity, reflection, a sense of the past, a sense of the future, all stitched together with enormous and enduring love.
Alida DeCoster
I didn't think much of it about a year ago when Julie Hubbard asked me in passing what my favorite colors were. A couple of weeks later, she and her daughter Lissie came to my office to tell me that the Cedar Lane Quilters were planning to make a wedding quilt for me and Perry. Well, I was overwhelmed. I started to cry. Lissie asked her mom, "Why is she crying?" Julie said, "Sometimes grownups cry when they are happy."
This morning when Julie came in and saw this fantastic display, this quilt reunion, she said to me, "I think I'm going to cry." There is something really powerful about quilts, something that stirs deep emotions. I was again moved to tears this morning listening to the story "The Keeping Quilt." A quilt is a labor of love, a carrier of history, a link between generations.
Quilts can be powerful in many ways. I would like to pick up on something David said. A quilt is a metaphor for life. One way a quilt is a metaphor for life is in the way it represents transformation. It is like transforming the fragments of our lives into a meaningful whole, transforming chaos into beauty. This, too, is what we are attempting to do in religious community: make sense out of all the bits and pieces of our lives, so that we finally see a pattern of beauty and wholeness. Thank you for the marvelous gift, our wedding quilt.
Roger Fritts
The first quilts I was aware of were the old worn quilts my mother kept and used, when I was a child.
I asked her once why we kept those quilts. They were starting to fall apart,
looking more in places like collections of rags than like covers that might
keep us warm at night. Why, I wondered, did we use these old blankets when
we could use new ones?
| "The new blankets are made in factories," my mother replied. "The old
quilts were made by your grandmother and your great grandmother. That makes
them special."
"If they are special," I asked, "why don't we put them away and save them instead of using them?" "They were made to be used as blankets, as covers to keep us warm and safe at night, not to be saved." |
Now I realize that each of the old quilts of my childhood was a work of art, a work of geometry, a work of community, a work of thrift, a work necessity. The story of the creation of the quilt are hidden from me now by a century of years lived prior to my birth.
I can only imagine the creation of the old family quilts:
The company of women sewing and visiting.
The feeling of a sharp blade slicing cleanly through cloth and the soothing
rhythm of hand sewing.
The choices of color and design.
I can only imagine.
The feel and smell of fabric as it aged over the years and served as a comfort
covering the chest of a sick child on a November night.
Or a colorful pattern decorating a teenager's bed, expressing creativity
and beauty.
Or covering for two young people discovering their sexuality.
Like architecture, quilts are art that surrounds us and enriches our lives and our culture as a whole.
Closing Words
"Aunt Jessie's Quilt" by Sandra Harris
| Her quilt slung on Our blue velvet couch Beckons like the comfort Of grandmother's lap. Its patterns dance a polka In my heart.
It calls out joy from the past Never mind that the world seems mad. |
| Alida DeCoster Winifred DuMars Roger Fritts |
Carolyn Grassel Anne Herndon Julie Hubbard |
Leah Mazade Susanne McCoy Roberta Nelson |
Lyn Peters Peg Peterson Diana Thompson David Yano |
Music Notes
Our music is taken from Quilters, the musical play by Barbara Damashek and Molly Newman, which originated at The Denver Center Theater Company and made its Broadway debut in September 1984.
Quilters tells the story of Sarah, a woman of the 19th century American frontier. As the play opens, Sarah's daughters are remembering their mother and her life by following the pieces of her last quilt. This quilt, which Sarah calls her "legacy quilt," chronicles the rewards and hardships of her life: courtship & marriage, travel west, building a home, church, and children.
Although the play is pieced within the framework of the story of one woman's life, the stories shared and remembered throughout the play come from the lives of many other women. The events that inspired each piece of Sarah's quilt are ultimately seen as part of the timeless thread of experience woven into the lives of all women.
Cedar Lane Unitarian
Universalist Church |
