So it’s another cold winter.
I look in my closet send reach for the top shelf.
There it is Grandma’s quilt.
Grandma would spend hours sewing patches of cloth by hand.
As she stitched she sang hymns.
One day it may be “Precious Lord”
Another day it will be “It is well.”
I would sit beside her some days to help sort out fabrics or to be a keen eye to thread her needles.
When she was done with her masterpiece. She would fold it and give it to whoever in the family needed.
Those songs of faith rests in my heart and they help me through my darkest times.
So every winter that I wrap myself in her quilt, I’m wrapped with her love.
Her essence is in the the stitches.
Her love is in the patches.
Her songs are in the colors of the fabric.
Her legacy lives on with each person that has one in their possession.
Thanks Grandma for keeping me warm.
Thanks Grandma for sharing your love.
Thanks for sharing your faith.