I am not perfect.
Those who know me will quickly agree, though may be a little surprised at my level of self-awareness. It is, of course, our flaws rather than our perfections that make us who we are, that set us apart and that make us (and our lives) interesting.
And so it is with patchwork. The early Amish quilters used to make a deliberate error in each piece, for fear that their perfection would offend their God! But fortunately, I not nearly perfect enough to have to worry about that.
Over the past few weeks, I have been working, intermittently, on a small baby quilt for a friend. A simple piece – and if I’d spent all of my time on it, it would indeed be (a bit more) perfect. As it is, it’s full of my love and joy, and a not inconsiderable number of unsquare squares, uncorresponding corners, unmatched seams, and uneven lines.
Now those who strive for perfection might say ‘what’s the point of imperfect points?’ An imperfectly pieced piece belongs in the bin – or so I’ve been told.
But I say this, lovely baby: This quilt is a message about life. A message that you do not need to be perfect to be beautiful, you do not need to be precise to be useful. Enjoy your imperfections, celebrate them and let them be the warmth that sustains you and those whom you love.