Christmas Day 2014, we’re getting ready for 40 people for dinner. Why so many? My wife and I have a blended family, and she loves Christmas and family and giving. Over the years, Christmas has become children, spouses, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, ex-spouses, add-ons from previous marriages and finally my 95-year-old mom. All these people live close enough to join in the family tradition.
My youngest son, James, just 40 and a single parent, had been lamenting that he wanted a quilt. His mom, Jean, who was a quilter, died 15 years ago, and he wished she had made him a quilt.
My wife, Karen, giver that she is, suggested to me that we go buy a quilt for James. We thought we’d have one made by a quilter at the Clark County Fair, but we missed the fair.
Karen asked a quilting friend of hers about making it. Her friend said that any person who quilts always has quilts in the making and maybe my son’s mom had left something somewhere.
I started calling around. Well, it turned out that some time before Jean died she had to stop quilting, and had given our daughter-in-law, Julie, her sewing machine and a trunk full of quilting stuff. Julie dug through the trunk and found about 300 pieces of starts for a quilt, some sewed together, some just cut out, and the pattern for making the pieces. She gave us all the pieces and was so excited that they were going to her brother-in law, who would appreciate and understand the gift, knowing that his mom had cut, sewn, and touched each piece.
One of our daughter’s friends made quilts for children at hospitals. We contacted her. She said she would be happy to finish the project. She told us that there were not enough fabric pieces to make a full-size quilt, would a twin size be OK? That was exactly the size James wanted.
By the middle of December, the quilt was finished and ready for pickup. Then we got word that a tag had been found saying “Specially Hand Made by Jean.” The tag was sewn on and the quilt delivered to us. We put the quilt into a beautiful box and added a bow and card. Wrapped and ready to go, I hid it so it wasn’t under the tree.
Christmas night, after dinner, everyone had opened their presents. I announced that all should gather in the living room for a special surprise. I got the box out of hiding and gave it to James. He read the card aloud: “From Mom and Seven Christmas Elves.”
He opened the box while Karen told him the story of how so many people came together to make this quilt happen. James covered himself with the quilt and began to cry, as did all our emotional blended family. I said, “Tonight, when you go to bed you can wrap yourself in your mother’s love and warmth.”
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