Making a Quilt: More Than Just Fabric

Why can’t I walk past a handmade quilt?

It’s an honest question.

Have you ever really thought about what goes into making a quilt?

Because it’s a lot.

Photo by Dinh Pham on Unsplash

Quilting actually starts with falling in love with a pattern. There are so many to choose from.  That’s a rabbit hole all on its own.

Then convincing yourself you’ll definitely stick to the original colors and follow all of the instructions.

Spoiler alert: You won’t.

So off to the fabric shop you go, where you spend an embarrassing amount of time pulling bolts off shelves, draping fabrics together, putting them back, changing your mind, and eventually walking out with fabric that wasn’t even on your original list.

Then there’s washing it. Or not washing it. (I’m not trying to start that fight.)

Next comes pressing. Measuring. Cutting.

And if you’re anything like me…

…realizing you just cut the wrong fabric. or cut the right fabric completely crooked.

Cue the internal pep talk.

Maybe a little swearing.

Possibly convincing yourself it’s a design choice.. or another trip to the fabric shop.

You recut everything, convince yourself this time you’re paying attention, and finally sit down to sew.

Then you discover your “perfect” quarter-inch seam is apparently feeling more like a generous three-eighths today.

So you square up your blocks.

Then you sew them all together to make your quilt top.

Then your backing.

Then your quilt sandwich.

Then comes the actual quilting—which, in my case, often means what I lovingly refer to as scribble quilting.

Some might call it a meander pattern, but honestly, mine looks like the work of a toddler with a sharpie.

Finally, you trim it, bind it, machine stitch that last little bit (or hand stitch it if that’s your thing), and add the label.

Handmade with Love & Minimal Swearing.

By the time that quilt is finished, it isn’t just layers of fabric and batting.

It’s hours.

Sometimes days… weeks… years.

Countless sums of hard earned dollars on the materials, notions, machines.

Problem-solving, second-guessing, creativity, perseverance, and just enough stubbornness to keep going after ripping out countless seams that were imperfect enough that you would lose sleep if you left them as they were.

It’s a piece of someone’s life.

Which is why it breaks my heart every time I see a handmade quilt folded on a shelf at a thrift store.

Not because there’s anything wrong with donating things.

Sometimes that’s exactly where they belong.

But because I know someone stood in front of a cutting mat dreaming about the person who would one day wrap up in that quilt.

Someone chose every fabric.

Sewed every seam.

Probably ripped out (more than) a few of them.

Pressed every block.

Added the binding.

And stitched on a label hoping that quilt would outlive them.

Photo by Nathan Bang on Unsplash

Or maybe…

Maybe that’s exactly what happened.

Maybe the family simply didn’t have room.

Maybe no one knew the story behind it.

Just maybe…

That thrift store shelf is giving someone else the chance to love it for another generation.

I like to think that’s the happy ending.