I was awakened last Monday by a telephone call from Annie, the administrative assistant at our corporate office. (Translation: The secretary who secretly runs everything.) She was phoning me because the people who had volunteered to make the quilt from the blocks had no idea how to do such a thing. Her tone was almost that they (the supported living division) hated to put upon me to ask if I could do it. As I work for a separate division, and this was “their” project, not “ours.” In truth, I felt very honored to be able to be able to put these individual expressions into a singular, creative whole.
As I spent last week ill from the kiddie krud, staying with the rotation of ailing children who could not go to the babysitter’s, and still having to work over-time because I have no nurses/am short on competent nurses, I could not get started on the quilt until this week.
So, I have spent the last two days at the corporate office piecing the blocks together. And, I’ve had a wonderful time and received a bit of an epiphany.
Being a quilter, I subscribe to the methodology of modern quilt making. Rotary cutting, strip piecing…. Speed and precision is the name of the game.
It isn’t working with this quilt.
The squares of fabric had all been cut by hand. Not one of them is exact same size or shape. No uniformity what so ever. Some of the blocks that the clients made from the squares have embellishments that go completely to the edge of the block. No room for seam allowance.
So, I’m having to do this quilt the “old fashioned” way. Take each block individually, give it the particular attention that it requires in order to be able to piece it into the whole, and one-by-one, add it in.
As I was fidgeting with these blocks yesterday morning, it occurred to me that this quilt represents exactly what it is that we do as a company.
The individual blocks that our clients made are a personal, unique reflection just as each of them is a unique being with different interests and different abilities. Those blocks are just like all people. We are very similar, we all have the same basic components, but no two of us are alike. We are all a bit non-uniform and have our own particular quirks.
In modern quilt making, there are degrees of “one size fits all” methods of doing things. With this set of blocks as with our set of clients, there is nothing that is standardized and uniform and applied unilaterally. We must tailor each thing that we do for that particular individual to their particular needs. Just as I must take each individual quilt block and give it the particular attention that it requires.
This quilt is an exact representation of what it is that we do as a company. It was a very cool thing to realize that.
The supported living staff has been very appreciative of my efforts in assembling the quilt. The director of that division commented to me that their clients had simply fallen in love with me during the day of block making. I guess several of the clients had told their family members about me and the families had called the office to relay this information to the administrative staff, as to how appreciative they were that one of the nurses from another part of the company would come and take the time to do this type of activity. As I told Becky, I enjoyed making the new friends that I had made that day.
For me, being able to put this quilt together is an honor and a privilege. It took the office staff of the other division a couple of days to realize that. They had initially felt that in asking me to have to do this for them that I was being “put upon.” I am really glad to see that they have realized that is not the case.
Yesterday was May 6th, the one-year anniversary of my dad’s death. As I was running home at lunch time to grab a couple of more handy widgets from my sewing box in order to better work on some of these quilt blocks, I thought I should give my mom and my sister a call at the ice cream shop. Realizing the time, I figured I would wait until the lunch rush was over.
Just as I was pulling back into the parking lot at the corporate office, my phone rang. It was my baby sister. I told her I had thought about ringing her up but had decided to wait a bit. She asked if I was working. I told her I was at the corporate office working on the quilt. “I know you’re loving that,” she replied.
Everyone was meeting for dinner at 5:30. I told her that I had to pick Amanda up from work at 5:15 and wouldn’t be able to make it to dinner. She told me that they had set Dad’s headstone on the grave this last weekend.
His headstone, it would seem, is the only one in the entire cemetery that is truly facing the “right” direction. The cemetery borders a river. Everyone is buried with their feet towards the river. Therefore, all of the headstones are placed at everyone’s feet. You gotta love my mom…. Dad’s headstone is at the head of the grave with the information facing towards the river, towards his body…. Completely backwards from every other headstone in the graveyard! LMAO only my family!!
That’s what my Dad gets for wanting that plot right up by the road and having to have us drive by and see him every time we head to the house! Yes, I still think he’s an asshole for having done that to us intentionally. That’s OK; I wouldn’t want him to be any other way. As I drive by, I wave and say hi to him and cuss him for being such an asshole for doing that.
I made it through most of yesterday OK. It was the quilt that kept me busy and focused. At some point, I realized that the shirt I had grabbed from the top of the laundry basket and put on was my “ICU sweater” that I had crocheted last year when dad was in the hospital. I even managed to maintain after that realization.
The drive to pick Amanda up from work yesterday was longer than expected. Traffic on the interstate was at a dead stand still due to an accident. I had picked up the kids from the sitter’s, stopped by the house and told them to get something to occupy themselves with for the drive. By the time we piled back into the van, it was reported that there had been traffic accidents at BOTH of the alternative routes that I could have used. Just figures.
Off we went. It took 50 minutes to make what is normally a 12-minute drive. Getting home was nearly as nightmarish. We had left the house at 4:40pm and finally arrived back home around 6:15pm.
Things, being how things generally seem to go in my life, continued as “normal.” I think both of my cell phones may be ruined from being drenched by a single coffee spill. I have more paperwork and forms to update for work than I care to think about. My house seriously needs cleaned.
And, just to give you an idea of how bad things really are… I’m choosing the “cleaning house” option.
