Quilt Of Shame

WP_20150920_001 ©jb katke

Mother’s Day was around the corner.  Perfect timing.  My church was giving me the opportunity to conduct a quilt class for mothers and their daughters. Quilting is a passion of mine and I was getting to share it with others!

I selected a sampler style project that would be an introduction to the many facets of the craft.  With a creative seed planted, I was hoping other women would join me in making quilts for those in need.  This could be the start of something big.  I was going to shine.

It was a learning experience alright.  For me.  Organization was required. Relaying directions in a way novice quilters and young girls could understood was important. Supposedly, I was to be the knowledgeable teacher.  It was going fairly well.  Until the end was in sight and it was time to bind the edges of the wall-hanging.

One mother/daughter team was getting in the groove and were ahead of the group.

There is just no easy way to say this. 

I ruined their project. I cut her binding too short.  If only the ground would open for me to fall in and disappear!

Needless to say, no one jumped to join in my little mission for the needy.  I was more than embarrassed, I was humbled.  Which I greatly deserved.

With all my fluff and greatness, I never asked the Lord to bless this opportunity.  How arrogant can one get?

Since my public tragedy my friends smile with patient endurance as I rattle off on my current quilt endeavor.  But I’ve learned not to be so full of myself.  A friend aptly clarifies quilting,

“You buy several yards of fabrics, cut them into pieces, and then sew them all back together again.” Yes, she gets it.

Eventually, two women did join me in quilt-making for those in need.  We met once a month.  But due to all of us employed, getting a quilt completed proved to be a challenge.  I discussed this dilemma with the Lord many a time.  My prayer was answered via a garage sale.

A neighbor came by purchasing my fabric. She shared that several ladies in her church do a similar ministry to an organization my church is also affiliated with.  She graciously invited our group to join them.  More hands to the task! At first I was encouraged, but eventually turned my mission over to them.

These events took place over many years.  Not because God was slow to respond or that he was punishing me for promoting self.

I’m certain it has more to do with dedication to what God wants, not what I’m willing to do for God.  He has his plans which far surpass what I can imagine.

If my intentions are genuine, then my life needs to walk in step with Him.

Black Friday

Black Friday is by far the biggest shopping day of the year. Daily, ads came pouring into my mailbox alerting me of sales I must not let pass. One in particular caught my eye, that I had every intention of taking advantage of.  Only it would have to be my deep, dark secret from the world.

20191112_080527© of JB Katke

A roll of quilt batting, normally costing $300.00 was discounted down to $99.00. A roll can make at least twenty-five quilts depending on their size. Ideal for the little quilt ministry I had.

Generally this store frustrates me enough to avoid shopping there, but I was willing to make this one exception. The doors opened at 8am and I was there early. Several other people were ahead of me. Time enough to strike up conversations.

Shopper #1 turning to the lady behind her. “What brings you here so early?”

Shopper #2: “I came to get that roll of quilt batting for only $99.00.”

Shopper #3: “I did too!”

Shopper #4: “So did I.”

On down the line it went.

Yet another piped up, “I’ve come all the way from Lawrence. I called the store to make sure they were stocked before I made the hour long drive to get here. They have twelve rolls.”

I counted down the line of shoppers. I was #15. This was not looking good. My heart began to sink. My hands began to sweat as the doors opened.

A mad rush whooshed inside. A display by the door held four rolls. They were scooped up instantly. Others charged down the aisle to the batting department to claim the rest. I was at the tail end of the crowd, and knew there was no hope for me.

A sales person called out, “Here are two more by the register.”

Shopper #14 and I grabbed them. Come to find out, there were only six rolls, not twelve. By 8:01am they were sold out.

My heart flew higher than a kite.

Who knew one could be euphoric without drugs?

But now my dilemma. I couldn’t tell anyone what God had done for me.

I don’t know the origin, but the saying, ‘A fool and his money are soon parted,’ stuck in my mind.

We were low on cash. In the eyes of others, this could look like a foolish expense.

Maybe the foolishness is worrying about what other people think.

My husband had no issue with my purchase, but the guilt was eating me alive. I could take it no longer and told to my missionary friend. Instead of criticism, she agreed that was a super deal.

Confession is good for the soul.

I realize the importaqnce of telling others what God does in your life and what he means to you. Letting people know what a positive difference he can make in their life isn’t a bad idea either. How else will they know his awesomeness?