Gratitude  for Grandmothers

 My youngest’s birthday always reminds me of the world of grandmothers, so many were present at her birth paving a path for her as she rushed into this beautiful world.

And as I sat this morning reading, bundled in a quilt which was hand stitched eons ago by my great grandmother (during the Great Depression), I was struck by how incredibly lucky I am to have had such an incredible lineage of women to call grandmothers.  Amazingly, I have quilts from most of them and the one that didn’t actually make quilts, collected enough textiles that it feels as though she handed down deconstructed quilts for us to piece together ourselves.

The interesting thing about the quilts is that there was no formal education on making them, each generation seemed to pick up at a certain point that this was an important thing to do and then just did it.  I’m guessing as it was in my case, maybe it was a need to pass on something meaningful to their children or maybe as my Great Grandma Barber’s case it was a matter of great necessity.

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