I think I loathe/fear this word more than any other. Broken. Damaged with a feeling of finality. Broken. No longer (or never will be) useful. Broken. Trash to be thrown away. Unable to perform it’s intended use. Unable to be of service to others.

Having said that, I love quilts. A comfort both physically and metaphorically. I’ve heard it said, “when life falls apart, make quilts.” Gather up all the broken, useless, and discarded pieces and dare to make something beautiful. Ultimately, that is my purpose.


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