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Quilting and Healing
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Like most
quilters, I started quilting as a fun, creative, escapist, hobby.
And, like most quilters,
I soon realized that it can be much more.
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| The Dizengoff Quilt In 1996, on Erev
Purim, there was a devastating terrorist attack at Dizengoff Center, one of
the largest shopping malls in Tel Aviv. 13 people were killed, including the
mother and sister of Israeli quilter Marilyn Butchins. She decided to make a
memorial quilt for all of the victims. The result, a collaboration by 6
talented artists, is a deeply moving, healing and beautiful quilt,
at http://www.geocities.com/dizquilt/.
United We Quilt
I am a volunteer with an organization called United We Quilt, which creates
personal memorial quilts at the request of families bereaved by 9/11.
Quilters and families alike have expressed gratitude for the healing
that this project has brought. Examples of
these quilts can be seen at the the organizations' website,
www.unitedwequilt.org
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Israel 'Quilted Hugs' - 'Chibukisui - Project
Created in Israel, by Elana Schachter and friends.
These people--beginning and veteran quilters alike--- are holding
'quilt-a-thons' to make comfort
quilts for distribution to victims of terrorism, by the social
work organization The project is
in need of quilting supplies, especially batting and cotton thread.
For more information, contact Elana, at elana613@gmail.com. or Roberta Bernstein,
ATZUM P,O. Box
23773, Jerusalem, Israel 91237, email
Roberta@atzum.org .
The Israel project has
received generous support from Stephen Friedman, a real menche, at
fabric.com, in Atlanta, Georgia. Anyone who is interested in making or
donating a quilt to this cause can also contact him for details---he's
helping underwrite shipping. He's at
friedman@fabric.com.
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Quilting,
Grieving and Healing |
In the spring of 2001, I completed the most difficult quilt I ever had to make. Technically, it wasn't too much of a challenge. Mostly squares and rectangles. Very little seam matching required.
What made it difficult was that it was made from the clothing of a extraordinary, precocious,
delicious, spitfire of a little 4-year-old girl named Rebecca, who had died of cancer a few months before..
As a friend of her mother---and myself the mother of two young children--- I
was profoundly shaken by her long illness and her cruel death. I could not
imagine a way that I could even begin to help her parents to
heal---let alone
ease my own pain and confusion.
Shortly after her death, I sat with them in Rebecca's room. They were trying to figure out what to do with her stuff.
Her mother couldn't imagine giving it away---each piece was loaded with memories.
Wiith some hesitation, I told them I could make a quilt from her clothing. I was afraid they'd think it was morbid---and that maybe it was. I was afraid they'd be offended. Most of all, I was afraid they'd say "Yes."
They did.
Months later, I again sat with my friend as she unpacked her drawers into bags for me,
telling me stories over each piece. We both cried. I took the bags home and
put them in my closet.
I
procrastinated for a long time. When I opened that closet, I would look away
from the bag.
I'd never been much of a praying person, but I realized I had to do something dramatic if I was to keep my promise. I lit a candle, put it in a beautiful stained glass cup adorned with glass jewels, and
sang a bunch of prayers. Then I held a rotary cutter over one of her tee shirts.
I couldn't do it. The rotary cutter seemed too harsh. I put away the rotary cutter. I picked up my scissors, and started cutting off sleeves and collars.
Eventually, I was able to cut and sew without praying in advance. After a while, I could even use the rotary cutter.
During the project, I continued to pray and sing.. Like a complete nutcase, I also started talking to Rebecca, to my own
departed ancestors, and laughing over the clothing and its telltale stains (lots of food, paint and nail polish).
When necessary, I listened to old movies and HGTV craft shows to distract myself.. I asked her mother lots of questions about Rebecca and read through a memorial book of letters about Rebecca written by many different people. The more I knew about her, the easier it was to create a focus for the quilt. My focus---a complete surprise to me--- became: Pretty. This must not be sad. This must be pretty. Rebecca loved pretty.
Then there were the more obvious miracles.
For example, the day I realized I needed butterfly fabric.
Rebecca adored butterflies. And it had was a metaphor that one of Rebecca's
friends talked about a great deal, for the transition she experienced---in the body as a
chrysallis, to the spirit, as a butterfly. I thought it was a wonderful
image, though I wasn't sure I believed it. But I knew butterflies would
be important to the quilt. And I didn't have much butterfly fabric---only a
quarter yard of a not-too-wonderful tan. Rebecca loved bright colors. She
particularly loved shiny beads and jewels.
So one day, when I was realizing I was at a
technical stage (approaching the borders) where I really could use a coupla
yards of really wonderful butterfly fabric right NOW, I hopped in the
car to pick up my son from school, muttering to myself, "Gotta
find butterfly fabric, gotta find butterfly fabric." I promised myself I'd
drive the circuit of my three local high-quality quilt fabric stores that
weekend.
Eventually, I mentally changed the subject. I
was a little early for pickup, so I stopped in at a secondhand store near my son's school. Occasionally, I
score great old aprons, neckties, and tableclothes there--- not
in good shape, but still lovable to a
vintage fabric junkie. I wandered over to the linens department and started leafing through the hangers. Past the usual pilly sheets, worn towels,
torn bed skirts, and brown-and-orange granny-square afghans .
Suddenly, on a hanger in
front of me, I saw the most gorgeous, 2-yard piece of jewel-toned, gold-detailed butterfly fabric (a
brand-new uncut quilter's cotton fabric from a fine manufacturer) that you have ever seen in your life.
I started to shake. I looked skyward, but the only thing there was fluorescent lighting.
Strange coinicidences?
Evidence of an afterlife? Or just one helluva bargain
at a buck a yard? Don't ask me!
What I do know---and what ultimately
became most important to me was that this quilt became a small but tangible
way to help Rebecca's parents. It all allowed them to keep the memories
associated with each piece of clothing, but also allowed them to move on a
little bit . For me, it did even more. I finally felt I had DONE
something. I had helped. I had fought back against an unjust universe. Just a little.
And it had allowed me to share Rebecca's spirit---a spirit of joy,
of play, and of course, the spirit of pretty.
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(Above) Rebecca's
quilt-- overview.
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(Above) Garden panel from Rebecca's Quilt. This panel appears
in the lower right hand corner of the quilt. It's a picture of a garden
that I created from commercial fabrics, and some of Rebecca's clothing.
It relates to the dreams Rebecca experienced the week before she died.
Rebecca's mom's description of one of those dreams appears below .
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Excerpt from
Rebecca's mother's journal: "A
few days before she died, Rebecca woke up suddenly from sleep in the
hospital. She was already on oxygen, but excitedly and breathlessly told me
about her dream. She said she was in a special place with raspberry and
blackberry bushes, a tree with jewels on it, and a waterfall going into a
pond with red rubies and red pearls. There was a garden with green onions,
radishes, chile peppers, and pork. (Yes, pork---'From a pig, mommy!') There
was a rainbow you could see every day, and there was always a perfect
sunset. Best of all, there was a place you could camp out. Her dream was
very vivid, and she told me over and over how it all looked. Then she went
back to sleep."
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