Lost

My uncle just passed on a quilt my great grandma, or granny as we called her, made for him. Well it’s a mess, but I was hoping just maybe I could salvage some of the blocks and make something small.

As a child I didn’t appreciate my granny, but I wish I could know her as an older adult because the more I think of her and reflect upon her life she was incredible. Sigh…..such is life.

Anyway this abused and neglected quilt came my way. It was so dirty. After many bathtub soaks and rinses I decided it needed to be taken apart to really be clean.

As I was about to rip into it I noticed, because it was wet, that it had been put together on the top of another quilt. That is definitely something my granny would do, because she was rock bottom practical and had spent most of her life abandoned and impoverished but she was never poor in spirit or resourcefulness.

The quilt inside was completely worn, but I am glad I took the time to look at it, for it must have been so lovely, kinda muted and soft. Very tactile.

It appears to have been made from some kind if sacking. It makes me think of cheese cloth in texture, and the white, with muted blue and pink reminds me of the flour sacks I found in my grandmother’s stuff. I quite enjoyed the discovery and the memories it evoked.

This top is still very dirty, but now I can soak it without having to deal with crumbling wool and quilting holding the dirt in.

If I’m lucky I will get enough blocks still intact without holes, to have a piece of my granny to hold in my lap, and to perhaps remind me how blessed and protected my life has been. Maybe it will nudge me to become more like her. I will call it my look for a need and get busy ebenezer.

And I actually do need something to pull me out of the abyss of the lost. For I am so darn comfortable here bobbing about in lost purpose, lost passion, lost future.

My life seems to be chugging along without me. Thankfully my feelings haven’t left the building too. I still love and laugh and sorrow, but my core is hiding from everyone but God. And everyone includes myself. I hate it when I am hiding from myself, it is so unproductive and a lot of work to keep your mind occupied to the point of creating camouflage for your soul.

The thing is, if I stop spinning the brimming singing plates and let my soul out, I am terribly afraid of what comes next. For the desire for freedom will only cause pain to my heart.

But God is good and holding my hand, so I am not despairing or unhappy, just hiding in plain sight, inside the melodious noise.

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