MY MOM’S LAST QUILT by Pennie Hunt

(In photo: Carol, Glenda, Kay, and Mary Ann)

My first memory of her sewing was when I was about 8 years old. She would be sitting at her brown Singer Sewing Machine for hours. I don’t remember what she was making, but I have a clear memory of her sewing.

As life progressed, with three children, a military husband who was often sent on duty trips, and a full-time job, her life became busy. Her sewing machine sat quietly waiting. It wasn’t until my siblings and I grew up and left home that the old sewing machine was replaced with new computerized models. For years she would rent space at holiday fairs, selling her crafty creations. 

After she retired, sewing became her favorite pastime. Quilting became her passion. She was precise in following a pattern and directions to perfection. When she began sewing quilts, her life changed. She would spend hours searching for beautiful fabrics and just the right patterns. A bedroom in her home was transformed into her sewing center with custom-made cabinetry and a few more new sewing machines. My mom, Fern Hunt, was always sewing.

In true Fern fashion, she gave many of her quilted masterpieces away. She made baby quilts for friends. Large quilts for wedding gifts, and she donated quilts for raffles. She would attach a small tag to each one that read “Made by Fern Hunt.”
It wasn’t long before a professional quilting machine was purchased. Mom would meticulously piece together the fabric into beautiful patterns, and my dad would stretch it onto the quilting machine and supervise it as it sewed beautiful swirling patterns that held together the layers of backing, batting, and the quilt top Mom had created.

If you were lucky enough to receive one of her precious quilts, you would understand the love that went into making them. Many of her timeless creations were handed down to a second generation. When you snuggled beneath one of these beloved gifts, the warmth and love of Fern hugged you.  
 
Unfortunately, an unsuccessful cataract surgery not only stole the vision from one of her eyes but also her ability to focus on the stitches as she sewed. Her stitch lines were no longer straight, and the strain of depending only on her good eye would cause her fatigue. Her frustration from not being able to create the perfect quilts dimmed her passion. The sewing machines became quiet once again.
 
When my mom passed away, the sewing room was a challenge. Walking into the room, the feeling of her love of sewing surrounded us. The stacks of fabric were left the way she had them divided by colors and plans for future quilts. The walls were lined with racks filled with colorful thread. The memories were overwhelming, and our hearts were broken.
 
Members of our family kept a few meaningful items, and we donated the rest. Her gallon jar of buttons went to her favorite sewing shop, where it would sit on their counter in her memory. Many supplies and fabric were donated, by way of a friend connection, to the Bethesda Lutheran Church quilting group in Bristol, South Dakota. This group creates quilts for charities. We felt Mom would love that her supplies would be used in this way.
 
Months later, we heard from this quilt group explaining that they had found a quilt that Mom had partially sewn in our donation of fabric. They wanted to know if we would like them to finish this quilt and return it to us.
 
Four lovely ladies, Carol, Glenda, Kay, and Mary Ann, carefully finished the sewing, binding, and hand quilting. After they completed the project, they mailed it to us. When it was delivered to me, I unwrapped the package to find the most beautiful Christmas quilt. The squares of red and green outlined lovely deer images, divided by borders of holly leaves and Mom’s favorite red cardinals. It was stunning.
 
This week, as I decorated my home for Christmas, the quilt was laid over the back of my couch so that family and friends can be wrapped in love from all the hands that created it.
 
Sometimes Christmas angels are found kneeling in ceramic nativity scenes, or on glittering holiday cards. But for my family and me, this year, angels were found in a small group of big-hearted women in a tiny town in South Dakota who finished Mom’s last quilt.  
                                            ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
                                                   Pennie’s Life Lesson:
                                  Angles come disguised in many ways.
                        Sometimes you feel them in the warmth of a quilt. 
                                   ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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​YOUR TURN...        
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