I recently mentioned that I did a “jubilant lint dance” (Look Ma, No Hoop). At about the same time I wrote that, my pastor and I had been in cahoots to get a quilting group going at our church, Decorah Lutheran. We are a fairly large congregation for a small community, and there are actually members who don't know each other. Before I lived in a small town, I found that an impossibility, but Decorah is just above the break even point for that particular preconceived notion. I used to teach school at Turkey Valley, Jackson Junction, Iowa, population around twenty-five, give or take. I'm pretty sure they all know each other. (As an aside, one of my favorite things about teaching at Turkey Valley was being asked, “Where do you teach?” and I'd say, “Turkey Valley.” I loved that.)
The current trend in larger churches is to organize small groups, so that members feel more connected within the congregation. Hubba and I have been involved in the small group process at our church, and we absolutely love the experience. Neither of us are shrinking violets – far from it – but up until the whole small group thing started, our church involvement included things like teaching Sunday school and confirmation, or serving on the church council. We kept busy, but we weren't really connected to our fellow, as in fellowship, Decorah Lutherans. Drinking coffee between services works for some, but that usually happened while we were busy with other things.
We have had a great group of women quilters for years, or at least ever since Sarah Anderson and her husband retired to Decorah, and she organized them. They make quilts for Lutheran World Relief. These women meet religiously (get it?) every Tuesday from September through May for “Do Day”, working the whole day and stopping only for a brief potluck luncheon. They gather fabric that hasn't been used for other things, and sew it together in various utile configurations, making a top and a back. Batting is donated, the fabric sandwiches are pinned and tied, and each year they make around 205 quilts to send to whomever needs them, worldwide, via Lutheran World Relief. In addition to that, they send lots of quilts to many other worthy causes locally. It is a wonderment to see them put their loving, caring hearts into action.
The new quilting group is designed for those who desire learning traditional quilting techniques and skills. Our first “class” will commence this summer, and we're calling it “Organic Cotton”. We aren't using organic cotton, but the group is going to design and make a quilt that will be sold for the benefit of our organ fund. Nyuk, nyuk. Fabric humor. Pastor Glesne asked me to come up with a logo and a name for the group, and the first thing that popped into my head was “Dancing on the Head of a Pin”. Quilting makes me feel like dancing, a revelation that only compounds my dork status with The Dot. Who wouldn't want to be one of the angels “Dancing on the Head of a Pin”?
Once I got the name out of the way, it was time to work on the logo. Hmmmm. That would require some ability to draw, and stick people are a specialty of mine. They're perfect when you want to be genderless, so I decided to make a dancing stick person. I couldn't bring myself to do that little ballerina twirl-thingie kind of look. That is so predictable, which is what many of us quilters struggle with in the first place. Predictable, boring, colorless, stodgy -- you know the story. This stick person would be dancing on the head of a pin, but it didn't have to reach for the heavens. How redundant. It goes without saying that we all thank heaven from the very cores of our quilty beings.
Then I got to thinking, Richard Gere played King David in the movie, King David (clever title). When King David came into the city, he d-a-n-c-e-d. Richard's King David boogied down so seriously that I still remember how much fun he appeared to be having. In the movie Footloose, Kevin Bacon's character included the passage from the Bible of David's dancing in his plea for the senior class to hold a (horrors) prom. Richard came in looking for all the world like one of the Jets from West Side Story.
“When you're a Jet, you're a Jet all the way...”
Crouched down, knees bent just so, feet moving to the music, arms down and fingers snapping. Coo-ool. I had our logo. Add a wing on the back of my bent-over, finger-snapping stick person, and the Lint Dance was born. You may note that it comes with a whole raft of justifications from the movie industry. Perhaps that's where my preconceived-notion-sickness originates.
We quilters can only hope to battle the stereotype of being a little too randy. The dancing bit helps. So what if we have to earn that one in the church basement? It makes it all the more in-your-face liberating! There was a point in history when the Lutheran church didn't allow (horrors) dancing. Members were discouraged from that wickedness altogether, and doing it in a church basement was completely off the table. I'm sure there are still some who find us on the edge of a very slippery slope.
“When you can quilt, you can quilt all the way...”
There remains one more bawdy fruit of the sect to address -- quilter language. I always wondered why I knew certain words, and then I started quilting. Setting in pieces, like an Attic Window, or a Carolina Lily, or La Moyne Star, was when I made this discovery -- I actually need those words! They come in quite handy, and it's a test of character not to use them. Seriously, when you have less than a fat quarter left of your inspiration fabric, and you discovered you measured wrong after you cut, what do you say? “Gee good golly” doesn't exactly leap off your tongue, and what escapes often results in a quick scan of your ear-shot space to see who heard it, followed by a repentant, “Sorry, God.”
Now that we will be “dancing” in the church basement, perhaps I can get some help for this frailty of the flesh. Confession is good for the soul, and I will be within spitting distance of the sanctuary. I find I do meditate while quilting, and the chance to commiserate with other experienced quilters, along with being an example to the newbies, may encourage me, and lead me back to the light. I will be fortified in my effort to replace the words I shouldn't know in the first place, and the road to you-know-where may take a detour. I'm already well practiced in “dang” and “dag-nabbit”, two of my favorite, if not overused, replacements.
Quilting is good for the spirit and good for the soul. Dancing is no longer a sin, and there is room in the church basement for the redemption of quilter language. I'll bring along the book Bad Girls of the Bible so we can all compare notes with what chicks did back in the day. I hope we'll learn that grace means God will not abandon those who dance on the head of a pin.
Copyright © Kari E.O. Burns June 2005
No comments:
Post a Comment