A grandmother's love lives on – through a quilt
A hand-stitched heirloom made the perfect spread for her daughter's new bed.
from the August 13, 2007 edition
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"Is that for my big-girl bed?" My daughter stares at Sunbonnet Sue, now spread out over the princess sheets.
The quilt completes something – the bed or my heart, I can't be sure. The careful, even stitches, quilted by hand around each and every doll, remind me of my grandmother's unlimited patience, something I could use more of when navigating the sometimes unsteady waters of motherhood.
It would be good to use this quilt again, so my daughter could know something of her great-grandmother. It would be good for her to know the master quilter, the farmer's wife who rose before dawn each day to cook flapjacks and eggs for six children and a live-in hired hand.
It would be good for her to know her great-grandmother's hands, the skin rough from both the garden hoe and the weight of the milk pails she carried from barn to milk house each morning.
It would be good for her to know those hands, which spent hours picking string beans and husking sweet corn, yet were never too weary to help others.
Those hands made countless chicken pies for church fund-raisers. They fed wandering hobos who appeared on the farm, nourishing them with egg-salad sandwiches and an accepting smile.
My daughter should grow up knowing of this woman, the quilter whose fingertips gently sewed intricate patterns for months, then turned around and gave away her masterpieces as gifts. She should know how a woman can be strong, yet selfless; giving to others, yet asking nothing in return.
I look at the sunbonnet girls, only now noticing their faded dresses and torn seams. With a little loving care, repairs could be made. A few stitches here, some fresh thread there. My heart leaps at the thought.
"Yes," I finally answer my daughter's question. "I want you to have this quilt. My grandma made it for me when I was little." The quilt, washed and mended, completes my daughter's new bed.
She likes it. "The dolly dresses are pretty, Mama, don't you think?"
For now, it is just a bedspread. Later, I hope, it will lead us to talk about what is important – like how a girl can grow into a hardworking, giving young lady.
Tucked under rows of sunbonnet girls, my daughter sleeps. She is a big girl now, growing up under the loving gift of a special woman who came before her.
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