Mom sat to my right, along the edge of my wedding quilt. She quilted going to her left and left the threaded needle by my right elbow so I could take it from there and I would quilt to the far left edge.
Mom was a much better quilter than I was. She came from the old school where every young woman had a trousseau. I had been much more interested in the social aspects of finding my husband, courting him and finally reeling in the catch! Mom had watched and listened with rapt attention to every detail of my dating and courtship (I know, that’s hard to believe but it’s true.) And so, after 5 years of dating and courtship, here we were along with 10 other women weaving threads in my victory quilt.
I call it a victory quilt because I had to work hard to catch my man and he truly was quite a catch. Now nearly 34 years, 5 children and 6 grandchildren later I find myself taking different kinds of threads. I am applying myself to a quilt make of patients like me. Others who have endured the pain of depression then finally in a desperate attempt to find recovery accepted a label that would change their lives forever.
These individuals are my brothers and sisters. They are taking up the golden thread of friendship and camaraderie. They are the courageous warriors who have dared come forth and be counted as they thread their next golden needle and begin to quilt.
I want to thank those who have set up the frame, purchased the supplies and laid out the material so the rest of us could find each other somewhere in between.