Tale of an Amish Quilt

My life began, like so many quilts before me, in pieces. The fabrics that were used to make me came from so many different places it’s difficult to remember where it all began. Some dark purple pieces came from leftover fabric that was used to make little Mary a winter dress, a dark blue came from fabric that was used to make the apron mother wears, some bright reds were bought from fabric store in town especially for me, and my black border fabric was leftover from the many pairs of pants that were made for father and the boys. Each piece was lovingly collected by mother and set aside for the express use in my creation. It fills my heart with joy to think of how mother collected my pieces together for months knowing exactly what she wanted to do with them. To put them together to create what I eventually became…an Amish quilt.

Once enough pieces were gathered together to make my large square shape, they were cut into a variety of triangles, rectangles, squares, and long strips for the border. Mother spent days arranging and rearranging the pieces in different shapes and designs before she settled on the one she liked best. Mother would pin these simple, yet bold designs together into larger squares and then began the tedious task of stitching each piece of fabric together with small, uniform, nearly perfect stitches. Most of this work was usually done in the afternoon while the sun was high in the sky, providing mother with enough light to see the small stitches clearly. I remember how busy her mornings were, tending to the children, making the meals, doing the wash, tending the garden, and preparing the afternoon meals. I would watch her as she tirelessly worked without complaint to meet the family’s needs and tend to the household chores. As I waited patiently for her to return to the work of putting my pieces together, I was often amazed that she would have the strength and determination left to stitch together my loose pieces. She always did make time for me though and it often seemed as if she enjoyed the process just as much as I enjoyed the attention.

After months of putting my pieces together during the long, cold winter, my top sheet design was finally complete. As the breezy air began to warm outside, signaling the arrival of spring, mother gently folded me up and took me outside for the very first time. I was a bit apprehensive about what was going to happen next, but it turned out that it was just the next stage in my development as an Amish quilt. We arrived at one of the larger gathering halls inside our small Amish community and met with the other Amish quilters from our town. It was the first time that I was able to see other Amish quilts like myself that had spent the winter being created by their Amish mothers. We were stretched out onto large frames that allowed the full beauty of our mothers’ quilting handiwork to be seen and admired by others. Each one of us had bright, bold, geometric designs that were both simple, yet beautiful in so many different ways. All of the quilters of the town gathered together during the ‘quilting bee’ and hand stitched the final designs that would bind together our top sheets, batting, and bottom sheets into finished Amish quilts. The women chatted about their families as they quilted and got caught up on what they had been up to during the winter months. Some women shared their hardships and much of the stitching would stop as the other women offered advice or just lent a listening ear. The sense of community was wonderful and I really understood what it meant to be Amish and it made me proud to be a part of the plain and simple traditions of the Amish community.

Once I was complete and could officially be called an Amish quilt, I wore that honor with pride. Mother said it was time that I leave the only home I had known and be sent out into the world to be admired and loved by a new family. The thought of leaving mother was a frightening one, but the anticipation I felt knowing that I was meant for a new, yet unknown family, made me giddy with excitement. Mother packed me up in a hand-sewn bag she made to protect me on my travels and we set off in search of my new life outside our small community. We arrived at a small Amish market that sold Amish quilts, cedar chests, wooden toys, fresh preserves, and other handcrafted products the Amish men and women made to sell to tourists and other local residents. I was hung on a rack with other Amish quilts and put on display for all my potential owners to see. I learned over the weeks that I spent in the shop that I was part of a tradition that has been around for almost 150 years and knew this kind of workmanship was highly sought after by the non-Amish or ‘English’ members of the outside community. I displayed myself with all the pride my Amish mother had given me and prepared myself for what life might wait for me outside the Amish community.

Hundreds of potential buyers looked at me and commented on my beautiful dark colors and traditional Amish design of geometric shapes. Some other Amish quilts were bought that were hung next to me, but I knew my chance would come soon. It was strange to see all the people came in to gawk at the way the Amish lived and I realized that the outside world was much different than the one I had been created in. Finally, a woman with a strange accent and clothing that indicated she was not from the area looked at me with such love and desire that I knew she was the one I was meant for. She ran her hands across my top coat lovingly and commented on the fine stitching and attention to detail that she had never seen before in manufactured quilts. I was then taken down from my rack and put back into the hand-sewn bag and headed off to meet the family that I would spend the rest of my days with.

After several long days of travel, I was finally removed from my sack and I got to see my new home for the very first time. It was so different from the one I had been used to in the Amish community. The walls were painted in a variety of colors and everything around me seemed to buzz with what I eventually learned was electricity. The rooms were brightly lit and there were so many noises that surrounded me from the television, radio, video games, and people that seemed to always be dashing in and out. It was quite different from the quiet and simple life I had been used to, but it was exciting nonetheless and I enjoyed the constant activity that surrounded me. My new family laid me out on a bed that had been waiting for me to arrive since they had moved into the home. Fancy pillows were placed near the head of the bed and my folds and wrinkles were smoothed out by the loving hands of my new city mother. This has been my home ever since. I enjoy living here because I feel the love and appreciation that my new family has for me every time a new visitor or new guest arrives. Mother shows me off with pride as she explains to them that I am an authentic Amish quilt and it makes me beam with pride.