A Quilting Conversation: Gimme 3 Steps, Mister
“God,” I said, “I really want this quilt to turn out right. I’m scared I’m going to mess it up.”
“Hey, God, what do you think? An overall design? Stitch in the ditch? Which thread should I use?”
“O Lord, help me to stitch straight! I just edged up over the seam allowance…”
“Am I doing this right? Is it going to be all right?”
“Hey! Before you stitch down the next row, you better stop and look closely at your stitches, child…”
I stopped at the end of the next row. I’m in a bit of a panic. Is there something wrong? My shoulders are up around my ears and I’ve got my left foot painfully pointed into the ground, my right ankle is starting to ache from tightly held tension. I cut threads, pulled back in my chair, turned the quilt over and closely examined the stitching line.
“Uh, God, um, the stitches are perfect. I don’t see anything wrong….?”
“Yup, that’s what I said earlier, but you weren’t listening.”
So is the conversation over? Not by a long shot…
“Hey, God, I’m really messing up here. Help me! This doesn’t look like I want it to look. I can’t do this. What happened to ‘perfect’?? Why this constant struggle? Why can’t you just wave your hand over my work and make this easy? Everything looked fine a minute ago, what happened? Why does it have to be so hard?”
“Turn on the music, child.”
I turn on the receiver and CD player and press play, thinking I’ll just listen to whatever happens to be in there.
“Turn it up…”
Now that’s not the voice of God, that’s the voice of Lynard Skynard.
“…Sweet home Alabama. Lord. I’m coming home to you.”
A little dancing, a little singing, a little smiling and a lot a quilting.
Oh yeah, there’s not a lot that a little Lynard cain’t fix. Ain’t that right, Uncle Reese?!
“Gimme three steps, gimme three steps, Mister, gimme three steps towards the door…”
Hey, Unca Reese, do you remember when I was 17, in school at SMSU, you got a new stereo system and THAT is where I heard my Lynard Skynard. You played it loud, you grinned from ear to ear and giggled as you “turned it up”. I can see you standing there as clear as day, it makes me so happy just thinking of it. You’ve always been my hero, Unca Reese. Always. I’m a lucky girl…