Helping Hands

Embroidering 30 words onto the border of our quilt was no small feat. I was very grateful for all of those peaceful moments during one of the most hectic times of the year. And I was grateful for those 16  kids who helped:

Beginnings

To release stress and center oneself, some people run. Others meditate. I choose embroidery.

I can get lost for hours in the rhythm of the stitches, the traveling floss, the sound of the needle punching through the fabric.

Punch up, pull (inhale), punch down, pull (exhale).

I was interested to see if the kids might feel a similar sense of peace, that space and time might blur in the needlework. So naturally, whenever I clapped my hands together and said, "Let's embroider!" I was met with blank faces and lots of "No!"

But with a little coaxing and much more, "Just try it," the kids took to this newfound hobby. Of course, there were a few--but, really, just a few--who announced, "Done!" after a minute of needlework, however, the majority of the kids wanted more. More time, more floss, and more words to complete.

So did their embroidery work stay on the quilt?

Ah, no.

I had to cut out and re-do what had been done by those little fingers. But it was a start. A beginning of so many things: the discovery of a hobby, pride in handwork, and, yes, even that familiar blur of time.

It was also the beginning of friendships.

EGGcellent

Now that we had our poem, I needed the work.

There were 30 words, one per student. My idea was to have each kid write a word which would then be embroidered onto the quilt's border. My son had told me that the class was learning cursive, and I had seen him practice a few times before bed, excited by his creation of fancy-looking words. Cursive seemed like the perfect thing to do--that is until I visited the class, arms filled with a stack of paper, ready to execute.

The teacher let me know that the class had learned just two letters.

"Oh."

(oops)

"We've learned how to write egg and bell, too," my son added.

And come to think of it, that's all my son had ever written. Egg and bell were on pieces of scrap paper all over our home.

Thankfully, I had prepared worksheets with the example words written in cursive. The kids simply copied it in their own writing, and the work got done in no time.

Fancy that.

This is the sum total of second-grade angst.

You might remember that during my first classroom visit, I asked the class about the kind of message we could inscribe onto our quilt, a message that related to their chosen feelings of love, joy and happiness.

During my second classroom visit, I had the kids write brief sentences on scrap paper. I collected those pieces of paper and placed them in my supplies bag. Later that evening, I pulled them out. Here are some of the first phrases I read:

Love, no war.

If there’s no people, there will be no love.

No mom or dad, no love,

No kids, no friends.

The earth can’t live without love.

Whoa. These kids hit the intensity out of the ballpark. While a message about zero population, isolation and loneliness wouldn’t work on a quilt intended to give love, joy and happiness to its recipient, it makes for a good song.

And just to be fair (and to even-out those weighty thoughts), I also received these:

Be happy.

Exploding love.

Be grateful for joy.

Love your life.

Thank you earth.

We love you, earth.

However, out of the remaining phrases, I found a common theme. And it had nothing to do with love, joy and happiness. It was something more concrete. Those wrinkled pieces of paper spoke about sleep (after all, we’re making a quilt). 

I didn’t have to do much. I just typed those sentences into the computer and read them aloud. And wouldn’t you know: those kids had created a group poem. It wasn’t short. It would require more work than I had intended. But it followed along beautifully with the teacher’s lesson on magical phrases and free verse. And if I was going to get it just right, I needed six more words. No more, no less. 

Two girls were willing to help find those final thoughts. One girl repeated, “Happy Earth Day!” over and over until I finally jotted it down on my pad of paper. The other girl became so excited, she practically shouted, “I sleep with my quilt! My quilt makes me tired! It is night with my quilt!”

In the end, we captured those six words to complete our group poem. And here’s what our quilt is going to say:

Good night.

I love life.

I love light.

Good night up above,

It is night.

Stars give us light.

Good dreams,

My nice night.

With my dream quilt, 

I fly.

Daddy Long Legs

In making this first quilt of ours, the lingo sometimes gets scrambled and turned upside-down. Apparently, we've been working on the border, not the sashing this entire time. Who knew? Well, now I do.

And the border (ahem) is finally completed!

It took a team effort. I required a lot of denim. And little kid jeans would not do (have you ever held up a pair of child-sized skinny jeans??? The amount of fabric in one leg is adequate enough to make a bookmark). No, I needed the real deal. The manly stuff. Dads who are big and tall.

It took seven pairs of men's jeans--tall men--to cull enough denim for our quilt's border. And with the help of one mom who cut them up and six kids who worked the sewing machine, we got that border stitched together in no time.

Oh, and let's not forget the one little sister who insisted on helping, too.

Batty

Okay, what do you get when you bring into the classroom the fluffy organic cotton batting for a quilt and pull it out for the kids to see?

Crazy kids!

(Not to be confused with a crazy quilt.)