On Big Steps, Baby Steps, and Backward Steps

A year and a half before Cooper died, I saw some flannel I thought would be perfect in a rag quilt for my uncle and aunt, L & J. They have a small building in the woods that family dubbed “the lodge.” The perfect fabric was woodsy and boasted the phrase “Welcome to the Lodge.” So, over the course of 2019 and maybe early 2020, I bought that fabric along with complementary patterns and colors, and had plans to make a quilt for the lodge.

Then Cooper died.

A couple months after he died, I thought a project might help occupy my mind. I decided I’d make the lodge quilt. I cut some fabric and worked on it a little, but I just couldn’t focus. Instead of turning the fabric into a quilt, I put the fabric in the keepsake container that had held Cooper’s flowers and shoved the wannabe quilt under his bed. I looked at the pile of fabric a few times in the next almost-three-years, but I didn’t work on creating the quilt until last month. I don’t know what changed—why I could finally work on the quilt—but I could.

Although it seems a laughable concept after so long, I gave myself a deadline—Labor Day weekend. Our biggest extended family gathering is that weekend, and we spend time at the lodge. Actually, there’s now a cabin in addition to the lodge. Luckily, Joann Fabric also makes a “Welcome to the Cabin” fabric. That’s how long I took on this quilt; L & J added an entire building to their property!

Anyway.

Deadline in place and finally able to make progress on the quilt, I got busy. Once I started, I just kept going and sewing until the quilt was done. I gave it to L & J as planned and now it’s on their bed in the cabin. I’d always loved the idea of that quilt, but eventually I loved making the quilt.

That quilt is so much more than a quilt. That quilt is progress and love and memories all stitched together and wrapped around my soul. So much changed from the day I saw the lodge fabric to the day I finally finished the quilt. The world locked down. My world fell apart. Life lumbered on.

And now, years later, I’m still trying to take steps forward. Sometimes, I lumber; rarely, I leap. Frequently, I fall. Since finishing L & J’s quilt, I’ve made one for myself of my favorite blue-green tones in patterns I love. It’s soft and soothing and will be cozy in the winter. Looking at my quilt and running my fingers along the fuzzy rag edges calms me, and most days I need that comfort.

Steps forward. Progress. Ugh.

I’m taking a sick day tomorrow. It’s a school improvement day and the afternoon’s topic is “Trauma Informed Response.” That’s an important topic and I fully support the concept and training. I’ve been in two similar trainings in the past 18 months, and I’ve had to leave both times. Turns out, I am a bit too trauma informed.

It’s hard for me to avoid viewing this sick day as a failure on my part—as an utter lack of progress—but I’m working on it. It’s impossible to explain the amount of “pushing through” that’s involved in every day of my life. Yes, every day. My usual approach is to show up and push through, and that was my inclination with this training. The more I thought about the training and my probable reaction, the less I felt like pushing through.

Maybe not pushing through can be its own form of progress. Maybe giving myself some space and grace— avoiding a situation I know will send me spiraling into the dark and twisties—isn’t a step backward but a baby step forward. That’s what I’m telling myself, anyway. Life is hard and lately life has been terribly sad. I’m taking the sick day and trying to avoid a spiral. I’m taking care of my heart and soul and mind, and that’s surely progress.

Maybe I’ll start another quilt.