handstories

constellation of story

 

    These moons were a gift from  Jude.  Most of them a long while back.  I've been holding on to them, waiting for just the right place.  

    There has been a cloth brewing in my mind for the last couple of moons, waiting for more time.

    And then Sunday…Orlando.  Thirteen-year-old Moon with questions about it all.  Remembering Charleston and Sandy Hook.  Moon imagining what it must have been like.  Thinking of the husband/father of a woman and children we know, who was driving them home at the end of the day.  Moon imagining what it must have been like.  Remembering a young man I knew, who was walking home one night.  Remembering two musicians who were hanging out in a cafe one morning.  All of them gone.  And the many others, all within Moon's thirteen years.  

    So, I've stopped waiting, and started stitching, and un-stitching, and re-stitching a story for myself.

    It's about remembering, holding, going, . . . the Weight of Story, and the Light of it, too.

Love Survives

    The square for Dee's "Hearts For Charleston" quilt is ready to travel across the country to her.  I am so grateful for the opportunity to participate in this project.  I had no idea where or what it might lead to.  I've spent all morning trying to write about it . . . about the process, the emotions, the confusion that comes from trying to get my mind around this event, and the too many others that keep happening.  How my heart has been strained, tugged, and filled by this stitching, and that of the other artists who have contributed (see their work here).  It all jumbles together . . . 

    It began when Dee mentioned one of the three survivors of the shooting, Felicia Sanders, who protected her grandaughter with her own body, who watched her son, Twanza, die.  Then listening to an interview with Ms. Sanders, and the statement she made to the the killer . . . writing down her words that struck me.

    "Every fiber in my body hurts.  I will never be the same . . . mercy . . . welcomed you . . . enjoyed you . . . joy . . . caught us with our eyes closed . . . "Mama, he shot me in the head." . . . "Mama, I love you. I love you." . . . Twanza, my hero."

    "Every fiber" became the center of torn open heart layers- ripped and shredded, and then strengthened by reworking them with weaving and stitch.  The threads holding each other in place.

    Faint rainbow strands run through it with hope and promise.

    Nine stars, for those who died, but live on as light in the hearts of those who love them.

    When I was young and trying to grasp the idea of God and infinity, of boundless limitless love- it was the ocean and star filled night skies that would help it all to make sense.  I tried to express this with a forever sky wrapped with edges of sea waves. 

    I wanted it to be about the power of love, of connection and bonds, that hate cannot destroy, no matter how raw and ragged we are made.

    "Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that."  Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

    For those who died, for the survivors, for Felicia Sanders . . . mama, grandmother, a woman who loves.  

melting & melding

    Of cloth, of stitch, and of thoughts.

    Almost done, one last element to add.  

    With many thanks to Jude for the lessons she shares, full of stitches and heart.

all over the place

    Stitching at this in all kinds of directions at once . . . working on the base, stitching down the heart, stitching under the heart . . . with no idea of where it will all land.  Just like love.

what the heart can hold

    Moon drew the heart shape for the "Hearts for Charleston" square.  

    Three became one.

    Heart view.

    One became more.

shhh . . .

    Everyone is off to school, and a square begun for Dee's "Hearts for Charleston Quilt".  More about this another time . . . I've got more tea to drink and very quiet stitching to do . . .