With Love, by Grandma

Some of my fondest childhood memories are of times spent at my Grandparents Michigan home. Picking warm tomatoes and strawberries from my grandma's garden and eating them in delight as the juice ran down my face. Watching summer hailstorms from the porch swing. Learning how to cross stitch when I was seven years old. And perhaps my favorite, watching my grandma in absolute awe while she sat at her sewing machine.

I could find her busy in her sewing room at all times of the day (or night), working on her latest project. The small, cozy room was strewn with fabrics of all colors and patterns. Files contained patterns for everything from curtains to dresses to pajamas. I was always so intrigued by the sewing patterns. The idea that you could take pieces of fabric that looked like nothing and turn them into something that could actually used. 

And she was always working on something for us grandkids. New flannel pajamas for Christmas morning. A new dress for my first day of school. Beautiful flannel quilts, perfect for snuggling. And perhaps my favorite part - a tag that finished each and every gift that simply said, 'Made With Love, by Grandma.' I would run my little fingers over the tag and I just knew that the words were true. 

When Grandma was in the midst of a blanket, her sewing room looked like chaos. Tiny patches would lay in piles around the room. I would hear the forward of her machine as she would sew and sometimes, the reverse when she didn't get it quite right. She would take it off and pull out the seams by hand until they were straight. For grandma, it had to be perfect.

I would peer over her shoulder to try to catch a glimpse of what she was working on and often leave in frustration. It was taking too long and didn't really look like anything but a mess of inside out fabric squares. I would nag her about when it would be finished because I wanted my gift now, but she always emphasized patience. She said that she could hurry through, but that it wouldn't come out right. That I had to wait and she then would reassure me that what she had planned would be worth the wait. And it always was.

And finally, she would present to me with her gift. What began as small, multicolored squares was now a beautiful flannel quilt made just for me. A quilt that I would sleep with every night. A quilt that I would snuggle with during Saturday morning cartoons and would accompany me on overnight trips. A quilt that would cover my head at night as I heard the distant yelling of my parents fighting again. And finally, the comfort I needed as I said goodbye to grandma when cancer took her from our family. 

So often when I think about what God has done and continues to do with my life, it usually doesn't make much sense. It looks like a pile of accomplishments and disappointments. Good and bad choices. Love and heartache. Life and loss. 

I see the events of my life strewn around me and I can't see how it's all going to fit together. I beg God to hurry up and let me see even just a glimpse of what He's doing. I feel parts of my life being torn apart, but not without Him lovingly putting them back together again; each time a little stronger than before. As the years go on, He reveals small sections that have been pieced together and always bring me one step closer to looking more like His son.

Although I may never see the full realization of what God has planned for my life while I'm on this earth, I have absolute trust that it is good and perfect. And finally, one sweet day, I will look back at the finished piece and like all of my grandma's projects, I will see His fingerprints all over my life and I can  absolutely certain that it is all 'With Love, by God'.