Of course there are mistakes
I suppose there are a few among us who never make mistakes. I certainly make my fair share though. Actually with quilting, I probably make more. Last Friday I arrived at the old school house just as some of the women were putting a new quilt on the frame. An incredible rainbow colored one that a woman in Texas had lovingly made and then sent to us to be hand quilted. The fabrics – I never saw anything like them before. Truly amazing colors and Joan had a wonderful idea which pattern we would use to quilt it. During all this discussion, I was taking off my coat, sipping a cup of coffee and then decided to sew on the other quilt, the one that Judy had pieced, that was nearly finished.
It had been a few weeks since I managed to make it in to quilt and so I hadn’t sewn on that quilt much at all. When I sat down, Carmen explained that I could do a pattern in the corners of each block and handed me the stencil and a pen. The pen wasn’t the best and neither was I. Before I had stitched a few inches, most of the ink had disappeared so I had to try my best to line up the stencil and draw again. Sew, line up stencil, draw, sew, line up stencil, draw. Perhaps a mantra but one that became sloppier so eventually what I had sewn had little resemblance to the original pattern. Rather stoically I announced that I would have to pull out half of the stitches and begin again. Cursing quietly I pulled the stitches out and then decided that I just didn’t have it in me to try more with this pattern. I moved to a different part of the quilt where I could make long straight lines.
Later Carmen got to the part I had given up on, took one look and said she would need to pull the whole thing out. She said it kindly and of course I agreed, somewhat ashamed of myself after all I have been working with this group for five years. But there you have it. We all make mistakes, or at least most of us do. I was willing to admit mine and move on. I didn’t walk out of the school house resolved never to thread another needle. I didn’t argue with Carmen that what I had done was acceptable. I didn’t lament the stitches I had made which would now be snipped and pulled out. I nodded and thanked Carmen (I should have removed all the stitches myself earlier). I kept sewing my straight simple line and hoped that next week would go better. Later in the afternoon, Bev got frustrated with the pen and said we obviously needed a new one.