Oh the joy that fills my heart every time I make a new crafty friend. It is like opening up a present on Christmas day as we share our different interests and what we can teach each other.
Just today I made a wonderful new friend and we delighted in our shared love for all things creative.
What is striking to me is what a journey creativity is and the common connections of creativity to family and heritage.
She mentioned her lifetime of crafting was a direct result of her mother living through The Great Depression and I instantly and longingly thought of my Grandmother. I related to my friend because my Grandmother was a woman that made the most out of everything.
My Grandmother and my Mother are the seeds of my ever-growing love for crafting. I have often thought every time I see the term “up-cycled” that it really just describes what my Grandmother did all along.
On my way home, I thought more and more about my Grandmother and all the things she made throughout my life and how much I treasure them. There was never anything incredibly fancy and she often made them from remnants, as was her way, but I absolutely cherish anything she touched. The quilt is probably my favorite of these creations. Each one has such a beautiful story.
My favorite one is comprised of what I believe to be a potpourri of remnants and the base of it is a pink I’ve never really cared for, but it is the warmest and softest blanket I’ve ever owned. It is tattered and the filling is starting to spill out here and there, but it is a work of art in my eyes. She never needed all the supplies I convince myself I have to have to be creative. She took what was available because she had to, and she made it into something useful and magical.
Need fueled her creativity and her craft and the result has been these heirlooms I can’t imagine ever parting with. It is more than a quilt, but it is actually a warm and constant reminder of her love. It is hand-sewn and I can’t tell you how often I’ve stared at the stitches, some uneven, and pictured her soft and sweet hands gliding through the fabric.
In her thrifty nature, my Grandmother also considered an alternate use for everything before disposing of it. I will never forget the amusing search for the real butter container in her refrigerator because there were always at least four impostors on the scene. As much as I used to sigh as I opened lid upon lid seeking the real butter, yesterday I found myself cleaning out a butter container and storing it with a smile in our cabinet.
Her lessons live on in me and I’m always so full of gratitude when I recognize a piece of her wisdom setting up shop in my life. She was a woman who was so worthy of imitation and I hope my life can resemble hers in even a small way. I am looking forward to making my first quilt one day and I hope my new friend can teach me how. I think I’ll start saving scraps for it now and I’ll think of Louise as I make it.