We're sorry, but eCampus.com doesn't work properly without JavaScript.
Either your device does not support JavaScript or you do not have JavaScript enabled.
How to enable JavaScript in your browser.
Need help? Call 1-855-252-4222
The New copy of this book will include any supplemental materials advertised. Please check the title of the book to determine if it should include any access cards, study guides, lab manuals, CDs, etc.
The Used, Rental and eBook copies of this book are not guaranteed to include any supplemental materials. Typically, only the book itself is included. This is true even if the title states it includes any access cards, study guides, lab manuals, CDs, etc.
Chapter 3
The Comfort Quilt
Missy meandered through her grandmother's house, acutelyaware of her surroundings. Rubbing her fingers along theantique dinning room table, she thought of the many meals shehad eaten there. Even now her grandmother was in the kitchenpreparing a special dinner for her. The humming she heard overthe chopping and dicing was her grandma's favorite hymn. Thescent, overpowering even the cinnamon potpourri synonymouswith her grandmother's inviting home, was from Missy's favoritedish, roast beef. She stopped for a moment to savor the aroma,her mouth watering in anticipation
And He walks with me and He talks with me. Silently, Missyfilled in the words to the tune coming from the kitchen.Mamawhas taught me so much, she thought as she continued her farewelltour through the house. She looked over the dining room table,past the antique furniture and accents perfectlyarranged to break up the long space across the front ofthe house, to the far side of the living room. I'll bet Icould make it to the couch blindfolded.
For twenty-four years she had been a part of thishouse. She had played dominoes and checkers onevery tabletop, hide-and-seek in every closet andunder every bed. She'd dressed up dolls and pushedthem in their miniature strollers from one room to thenext. Missy closed her eyes. This was as good a time asany to try her walk of faith. She set off toward thecouch. Within seconds she had reached the sofaunhindered and sat down, snuggling a pillow to herchest and breathing in the clean, familiar smell.Hours on this couch, she thought. Scenes of latenighttalks with her grandmother ran through hermind: When she was six, she had asked her grandmotherwhat happens when pets die. As a teenagershe had cried to her about awful dates. She'd donecountless homework assignments stretched out here.More recently she had announced with excitement - and a little fear - the job offer in New York City. Howencouraging and assuring her grandmother had been.Why am I feeling so torn all of a sudden? Working inNew York is something I've always wanted to do. I can'tback out now. Missy put her head in her hands, feelingclose to tears.
“Missy,” her grandmother called out. “Would youset the table for me? I'm running a little behind.”Missy took a deep breath and straightened herback, forcing herself back into composure. “Sure, giveme a minute. I'm just checking on a few things.”She stood up and started back toward the diningroom but couldn't help pausing when she caught sightof the quilt rack. Her grandmother always had ahandmade quilt hanging there, waiting to be given tosomeone who needed special care. Her family haddubbed them comfort quilts. Growing up, Missy hadwatched her grandmother quilt her way throughevery triumph and tragedy. She quilted for the birth ofnew babies and she quilted for friends who were hospitalbound. Missy couldn't help but walk over andfinger the edges. The needlework seemed to representeverything her grandmother stood for: courage, hospitality,resourcefulness, caring. For some reason,tonight the quilt felt almost magical. Missy had neverreally paid much attention to the pattern or thechoice of fabrics. But tonight she noticed. The varyingshades of blue had been stitched together masterfully,each shade complementing the others.
Wow, this one is really beautiful. I love blue.I can'tbelieve I never had Mamaw teach me to quilt. She sigheddeeply, feeling suddenly remorseful at the lost opportunity,then joined her grandmother in the kitchen.
“What was that?” her grandmother asked.“Oh, nothing, Mamaw. Everything smells wonderful!”She gave her grandmother a kiss on the cheek.“Thank you for doing this for me. I'm going to missthis so much!”
“It's a labor of love.” Her grandmother returnedthe kiss. “And don't go acting like you won't be back.Any time you're in town, this kitchen will be open forservice. Right now, we had better hurry. Your parentswill be here in fifteen minutes, and we're not quiteready. You know how your daddy hates to wait!”Missy smiled as she thought of her dad coming in,removing the lid from the roast, and saying, “Smellsgood, when do we eat?”“Let's use the good china tonight,” her grandmothersuggested. “You know where everything is.”
Missy went to the dining room and carefully liftedthe plates from the china cabinet. Once her grandmahad explained how her husband had surprised herwith the china on their fifteenth wedding anniversary.He had shopped and shopped, looking for theperfect pattern to surprise his wife. As Missy peered ather reflection in the cream colored plates with theirgold rims, she thought her grandpa had done a greatjob.It must not look a day older than it did whenGrandma opened the original box. She raised an eyebrow.Of course, it's not like it should be worn out from overuse. I'll bet I could count on my fingers how manytimes I've seen these plates out. Special occasions, that'sit. Suddenly it sunk in that this timeshewas the specialoccasion.
“Oh, Missy,” her grandma called from the kitchen.“Can you also set out the silverware? A few spoons aremissing, but there should be enough.”Missy grinned. She knew the missing spoons wereprobably her doing back when she was a child holdingpretend tea parties.Just then she heard the front door open and a loud“Mmm-mm. Something sure smells good! When dowe eat?”
Missy shook her head and laughed. There's Dad.“How about a hug and then I'll think about puttingfood on the table?” she heard her grandma say.“First things first!”“That's what I was talking about. First things first.Where's the food?”Missy hung back, listening to the familiar banter.That, I will miss. It's hard to capture that in a letter or ane-mail.
“Hey Mom and Dad.” Missy went to the kitchenand hugged each of her parents.“What do I need to do?” her mom asked as shewashed her hands, preparing to help.Missy's grandmother directed her answer at herson, who was picking at the roast with a fork. “We'rejust waiting on the rolls.”“All right, all right. Can I help it if I think you're afabulous cook? Do you want me to carve the roast?”“Yes, if you think you can keep from eating thewhole thing in the process!”
Soon the roast was on the table, the rolls were buttered,and the family was seated and talking animatedlyabout the adventures of their week. Missy soakedin every detail, relishing the laughter and love thatfilled the room. Finally, she cleared her throat. “Can Ihave your attention please?” She swallowed hard, notwanting to cry just yet.
“I know I'm not leaving for a few days, but I'vebeen thinking about what it means to be part of afamily that loves and support you. And I've concludedit means everything. Tonight I got here earlybecause I wanted some quiet time alone in this house,touching, smelling, and remembering everything I'vedone here. There's something extraordinary about agrandparent's house that I can't quite explain. It's likeyour own house because you feel like everything isyours, yet you're treated like a special guest. I want tothank you, Mamaw, for the heritage of a family whosegreatest tradition is to love one another. It all startedwith you and Grandpa. You two passed it on to Daddy,and he and Mom have taught me. I just want you allto know that no matter where I am, you are the mostimportant people in the world to me, and I love you.”
Missy's mother picked up a napkin and dabbedaway a tear. Her dad pretended to be clearing histhroat. Missy's grandmother was the first to speak, hervoice thick with emotion. “Well, if I can manage it, Ihave something special to share too.” The room goteven quieter as she got up and walked over to standbehind Missy.Missy closed her eyes, sure she couldn't hold backtears much longer.
“You all know how much I love this little girl.”Her grandmother patted Missy on the shoulder as ifshe were still five years old. “I know she's all grownup, but she's still my little Missy. Her decision tomove to New York is a brave one, and I want her toknow how proud I am of her adventurous spirit andher desire to make her own way. But she's right - family is the most precious gift we have. So I havesomething for you - for the days when you're missingthat family connection and you need someone towrap loving arms around you and hold you tight.” Shemade her way over to the quilt rack.
Missy held her breath as her grandmother pickedup the quilt and began unfolding it with as much careand ceremony as a Marine unfolding the Americanflag. As she exposed each layer, the hours of work ithad obviously taken, the tiny stitches that formed anintricate design, were evidence of how she lovedMissy.
Missy rose and wrapped her arms around hergrandmother, quilt and all. “Oh, Mamaw, this is forme? It's the best gift ever!”“Wait,” her grandmother said with a gleam in hereye. “You haven't seen the best part.”Missy helped her grandmother unfold the quiltthe rest of the way. When it was open, her grandmotherinstructed her to turn it over and look at theother side.
Missy gasped. She couldn't believe her eyes. Rightin the middle of the quilt was a collage of picturesthat had been scanned onto the individual squares offabric - Missy and her parents and grandparents atvarious stages of their lives. Now the tears wereunstoppable, and Missy grabbed her grandmotheragain in a tight embrace. Their special bond had beencaptured forever in the most beautiful quilt she hadever seen. Now, no matter where she was, all she hadto do to feel at home was touch the comfort quilt.
Excerpted from Hugs for Granddaughters: Stories, Sayings, and Scriptures to Encourage and Inspire by Chrys Howard All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
