handstories

the Child cloth

    All done at my end, and now it has things to do and be with Wendy's children.

    The back holds a sketchy story, a kind of dot-to-dot where a soul can trace their own paths through the soft sky flannel.

    I will miss this child with her wild hair and dreams . . . with her starry gaze into the twinkling fluttering skies and the deep blue sea . . . singing songs of birds and starlight and Self.

    The boat opens, with room inside of it, for whatever the children might need to put or imagine in it.  That seemed important this time.  It's lined with a bit of the cloth that went into Blue's baby quilt.  (The glittery starred fabric that was a gift from K. one Christmas, when Blue was just about half way here, and I was still afraid to hope that he would really come.)

    Home beside the flowing sea, on a hill filled with wishes and light.  (I know that the "hill" shape holds something for me, the meaning is still just out of reach, but there is something in it to figure out.)  

    And there is love in the middle of it all, lots of love.  Not "because" love, just solid steady it's true love.

    I will miss this child, this cloth.  I will miss them, I will miss them.  I will miss them.

    At the same time, I'm so full of where they might go, what they might hold for others.  For children.  Children who need to be held, to be believed, and to believe.  To know they belong to themselves.  ox

binding it all in

    The quilting is done, and binding begun.  While working on it during choir rehearsal the other night, seat mates asked about it.  When describing how the cloth might be used by the children who work with Wendy, there was a quick thought of the cloth being a place to get lost in, but instantly I knew that was wrong.  

    What I hope, what I really want this cloth to do, is for it to be a place where children might catch glimpses of memories, of parts of themselves.  Parts that have been forgotten or lost along the way.  Pieces of themselves they didn't dare hold onto as they worked to survive their worlds.  Places that hold their dreams, wishes, wants, and hopes.

    That's probably a lot to expect from cloth and thread, but I'm holding on to my own wishes, wants and hopes.

immersing self

    The top of the cloth for Wendy's children feels done.  It was a surprise, I thought more would come, but there was a sense- a peaceful punctuation of a feeling.

    I've been in deep fondness with the backside- it's wildness and colors, and the cushy flannel.

    So, now to put a backing on it, another cloud filled piece of flannel, and quilted with a random rainbow of threads from the basket.

    Watching the shapes sink into the softness is comforting and warming.  I'm glad there's still more time to spend with this cloth.

    There are tumbling piles that need picked up, laundry, taxes, a bathroom that needs cleaned... Oh, well.

thirty-four

    The hill was filled with stars, 143 of them, if I counted right.  So now it's a wishing place.  (I told Wendy it was probably an effort to keep going with this cloth.)

    It's our 34th anniversary today.  Here we are on our 2nd.  We went to dinner at the Grand Hotel on Mackinac Island, Michigan.  We couldn't afford to stay at the hotel, the dinner for $30 each was stretching it.  There was a spoonful of caviar atop the serving of fruit.  The first and last time I ever tried it.  The waiter came by and said, "Madam doesn't approve of her Garden Ambrosia?"  I did not know how to behave, I'm sure I rolled my eyes.  I wore my wedding dress, remembering that old movie "Somewhere In Time" that was filmed on the island.  Gosh, it's been a long long time.  I can't imagine anything else, and barely remember before.

    Tonight we'll go up the street to eat at the new Italian place, wearing jeans, and then walk back to our home on a hill, where most of my wishes have come true (except for that vacation home in Italy, but there's still time...).

the heart can hold, or be, anything

    A full pink moon hearted butterfly for the "Child Cloth".  Jude made the moon, as well as the magic black and white thread outlining the wings that are scaled with Deb's rainbowed threads.  I see here that the antennae are missing.  They will weave into and tangle with the child's hair.  That will be good.

    This cloth is almost done, I can feel that.  I'm missing it already, but it has things to do.  I think I will need to always have a cloth going for Wendy's children, for me, as much as them.

she sang a song of birds and starlight

    Things I didn't imagine are happening with this piece.  

    I shared it with two new friends yesterday.

    That was not like me.

    I let a stranger have a quick glimpse of it today.

    Really not like me. 

    It is keeping me centered right now.

    It is so full of story.    

    I am in love with this cloth.

stars, sun & moon

    A couple of new spots on the "Child Cloth".  A boat filled with stars, with room for plenty more.

    A sun to keep Jude's star company, made from Deb's eclipse dyed cloth and threads.

home & sky

    A hilltop home and a tree have been added to the "Child Cloth".  I'm looking for ways to put personal symbols into this cloth.  Things that have given strength, hope and dreams.  I think I keep saying the same thoughts and wishes over and over about this piece.  Hopefully, that is weaving them deeply into it.

    The fires in Washington are growing.  Last night the moon was pink, and barely visible by the time I went to bed.  This morning there is an eerie yellow haze outside, and everything is covered in ash.  Sending thoughts to those in the midst of it all.

    Home, hill and tree are all from Deb's cloth and threads.

seeing through

    A rainbow path . . . traveling from the child's spirit . . .

    through heart . . . 

    to circle the moon, and back again.

    It's something about hoping and dreaming, and seeing and knowing a way through, and there's the holding of it all wrapped around the moon.

    Stitched first in seven solid threads in rainbow colors, then filled in with Deb's rainbowed threads.  A vibration of Self.

    It's been a quiet few days, for the most part.  Still slowly going through things, discovering the walls and floor in our bedroom that have been covered in boxes and piles for years.  Transition and lightening.

shaping a sea

    The water on the "Child Cloth" is being built backwards, starting with the piece outlined in darker blue in the center, then the strip in front, adding behind both of them to the right, and finally to the left, all in the wrong order, requiring un-stitching, fiddling and shoving in with a needle.  Can't even tell you what happened or why.  It's just how it went, going forward seemed easier than backing up.  I could be at this for a long while.  Fortunately, it's all old silk and able to stretch and twist.

    There is a lot going on, much I mean to share, but the tired self is winning.  The last couple of days have been packed- a workshop (with a room of artists committed to making a difference with children, led by this amazing man), writing and painting classes, and I even dragged myself to swim class last night.  The nights are full, too, of nightmares.  Stories of misunderstandings, lost suitcases when my plane is about to board, and many many murderers to maneuver carefully around, all churning through my head every night for the last month or so.  I wake up exhausted with a pounding heart.  I have no idea what it's all about, hopefully, it will work itself through and out soon.

    Thinking of how Wendy welcomes each child into her therapy studio, the washing of their feet and the entering.  Listening to her describe it all is like a flowing poem.