HEAVENLY PATCHWORK - Sample Stories

"Make a quilt -- warm a heart. This book, Heavenly Patchwork, proves how a quilt can provide solace in times of need. It makes me proud to be a quilter today." - Georgia Bonesteel

Check out her new release Georgia Bonesteel's Quiltmaking Legacy at www.georgiabonesteel.com

"The inspiring stories in this book are sure to warm your heart and soul." - Jenny Beyer, author, fabric designer, teacher, lecturer and winner of 1978 Great American Quilt Contest

"I feel in my heart that each of the quilts that you tell about, each quilt that has been made and given away has a story to tell." - Helen Kelley, author of Every Quilt Tells a Story, and Helen Kelley's Joy of Quilting.

Visit www.helenkelley-patchworks.com

"Every quilt tells its own special story and reveals something about the hands that stitched it. This book sets those stories to paper so that all of us can hear the whispered secrets of how quilts are woven into the fabric of our lives." - Melanie Hemry, award winning writer and winner of the coveted Guideposts Writing Contest, with hundreds of published articles and ten books, two of which won Angel Awards.

"What a wonderful, inspiring book and how touching the stories. Sometimes I think the world has no idea of how much quilters touch the lives of others. Many local organizations are now making quilts that are donated to the military for the returning wounded service people. Other groups are making quilts for the Sharp Hospital Burn Camp for Kids, for the Cancer Camp for Kids, for Children's Hospital, and a host of other organizations in need. We know how much these quilts mean to the recipients, and we know in our hearts how good it makes us feel to be able to create and donate them. Heavenly Patchwork tells this story over and over, and is a great source of comfort and inspiration. And what a great gift for Mother's Day!"
- Betty Alofs, designer, teacher, author, Betty A's Designs

"Curl up with a cup of coffee and read these heart-warming true stories - sure to touch you, lift your spirits, provide a laugh and add joy to your day!"
- Jan Krentz, quilt teacher, author, designer

"I have known Judy Howard more than six years. Her quilts for charity, prayers and Christian business ethics are very evident. The stories she is collecting all have a common thread: Women sew quilts with a prayer in every stitch that the one who uses the quilt will be well and safe." - Sharon Newman, author of 14 quilt books, teacher, appraiser, lecturer and former owner of The Quilt Shop in Lubbock, Texas.

"This collection of stories bring us the history of everyday women though the memories of each storyteller. It is books like this that historians of tomorrow will go to for a sense of quilts and quilters of the past."
- Judy Anne Johnson-Breneman, quilt history enthusiast, writer

"A wonderful, uplifting and interesting read for those who love quilting...and God. It's also for those who know neither quilts or God." - Chalise Miner, writing teacher, author of Rain Forest Girl and countless articles

"One of the great privileges of working with quilters and being part of the quilting industry is seeing, first-hand, the compassion that surrounds us collectively. Judy Howard's collection of stories is a beautiful example of heartfelt efforts to provide peace and support to those most in need. Quilters have a keen ability to comfort and sooth, but also strengthen, always while creating the patchwork that binds us together."
- Beth Hayes, Editor, McCall's Quilting

"Quilts hold so many stories, if they could only talk. They help get us through the good times and the bad times, and hold those memories for us. I love reading these stories of strength and courage and how fabric helps get us through. - Katie Pasquini Masopust, teacher, lecturer and author of art quilts

"Written with religious conviction, the book Heavenly Patchwork conveys the meaning of quilts within the context of giving and receiving via short stories that are fun to read. They recap an event or time when needed comfort was provided by a quilt. For inspiration, most of the stories are followed by a Biblical quotation. Reading the tales makes me happy to be a quilter." - Patricia L. Cummings, Quilter's Muse Publications

"Quilts chronicle the lives of those who made them and those who have used them through the years. Enfolded within each and every quilt, embraced between the layers, are touching narratives. Ms. Howard has collected some of the best and offers them to us in her wonderful book!
- Susan Talbot-Stanaway, Executive Director, Museum of the American Quilter's Society, Paducah, KY

"All quilts have a story to tell and what could be better than a collection of these stories? Wrap yourself in your favorite quilt, have a box of chocolates within reach and settle in for a wonder read!" - Janet Jones-Worley, teacher designer and author of Quilts for Chocolate Lovers.

"In the pages of Heavenly Patchwork, you'll find heartwarming stories from women who have experienced grace through quilts. There is comfort in cloth. Who has not felt soothed when wrapped in a quilt lovingly made just for them? Or how many times have you gotten through a difficult period in your own life by keeping your hands busy stitching? I believe we are to love one another and comfort one another. And if you are a quilter, God can use that talent to bless others. Let these stories inspire you with messages of hope, mercy, comfort and God's ability to sustain us in our time of need." - Rhonda Richards, Editor, Oxmoor House

"Quilts represent everything good in our lives - love, comfort, generosity, warmth, home, memories, creativity, beauty. Heavenly Patchwork explores the meaning quilts have in the lives of their makers and recipients. Your purchase of this book will bring the comfort of quilts to thousands more through the charitable work of dedicated volunteers who make quilts for children, hospitals, homeless shelters - all people and places which need the touch of love quilts represent." - Nancy Kirk, www.kirkcollection.com

"A charming book that is as filled with historical lore and insights as it is with delight. A quilt lover's dream." - Laura Palmer, NYC author and television journalist

"I'd like to paraphrase a quote from my own book, Quilting To Soothe The Soul, to endorse Judy Howard's wonderful book, Heavenly Patchwork: 'When there is joy or stress in your life, turn to your needle and let the labor of your hands work through the images in your heart.' Judy's book exemplifies all the good feelings of acceptance and resolution quilting brings to the quilt maker and receiver. It is a 'must have' addition to any personal library!" - Linda Carlson, author, www.lindacarlsonquilts.com

"Your wonderful book proves my point -- every story in life is a quilt waiting to happen. I enjoyed your nice stories and the idea of sentiments and things that make our hearts feel good. Keep up the good work. I think it is wonderful that you are giving your proceeds to quilting people who share their gift."
- Mary Lou Weidman, www.marylouquiltdesigns.com

"It has always been my hope that each and every quilt be a product of the maker's heart as well as her hands. The quilts featured in these stories are special because they were created with love, gifted with love and received with love, continuing the tradition of quilt making in the best possible way."
- Judy B. Dales, quilt maker, teacher, author, lecturer www.judydales.com

"Heavenly Patchwork's heartwarming stories offer a peaceful respite in our busy lives, and celebrate the special roles women have played in our nation's history." - Sarah Orwig, author of 71 published novels with 20 million copies in print.

"My grandmother was a quilter, bringing life to new and old remnants of fabric. Like my grandmother's quilts, Heavenly Patchwork weaves stories about life -- past and present. This book will warm your heart and lift your spirit." - Louise Tucker-Jones, Award-winning Author and Speaker

Sample Story:

2nd Place Winner of 2004 OKC Writers Inc. Contest
& 3rd Place Winner of 2005 Oklahoma Writers Federation Inc. District Contest

The Oklahoma Twister Quilt
as told by Frances Thompson

Mike and Shirley Thompson were just sitting down to dinner that fateful Monday, May 3rd, 1999, when storm sirens started blaring. They flipped on the TV to hear Gary England's weather warning; "This is an F5 Tornado with wind speeds clocked at a record 318 miles/hour. All those in the Bridgecreek, Moore, south Oklahoma City and Del City areas should take shelter immediately. Multi-cell tornadoes have touched ground."

The Thompsons quickly grabbed pillows and blankets and jumped into their bathtub, and pulled a foam mattress over their heads. They waited and prayed as they held each other. They listened and guessed at what was flying past as torrential rains and howling winds ripped houses in their neighborhood apart, tossing them like matchsticks. Their own house started to creak and groan and then exploded. The next thing they saw was the ominous dark sky as they peeked from beneath their mattress. Occasional flashes of lightning illuminated debris flying by -- a window fan, a porch swing, a chimney -- just over their no longer roofed lodging.

After the eye of the storm passed over, Mike and Shirley climbed out of their bathtub to survey the damage. With the roof gone, everything was sopping wet. Every window had exploded. Broken glass and insulation were embedded in any remaining furniture. The garage was nowhere to be seen and their car was gone. The wind had even ripped up the driveway pavement. Pieces of their neighbor's two-by-fours and sheet metal now lay in what used to be Mike and Shirley's living room.

It was a miracle that they and the neighbors were even alive! They praised God, taking comfort that they still had each other. They told themselves that was all that really mattered as they stepped over soggy photo albums and broken china. They were safe even though their house was beyond repair. "We can buy a new house, " Mike kept telling Shirley. "It will be our new beginning together."

They remembered what Mike's Dad always said, "We are super overcomers, conquerors in all things in Christ Jesus." A preacher's kid, Mike had always been taught to count his blessings and trust God to provide for all his needs. The twister would reveal how much his dad had taught him.

As the next hours unfolded and Mike and Shirley further explored their chaos, they lamented the loss of irreplaceable family albums, school mementos and wedding pictures. Then they discovered the one treasure they valued above all others. "Mike," Shirley shouted, "here's the Wedding Sampler quilt your Mom made for us!" Mike's mom had made it by hand and given it to the couple for a wedding present. It had been on their bed since they were married. Only now it was filthy, embedded with asbestos and wrapped around the washer. And it was shredded in several places. "Maybe your Mom can mend it." Shirley said with hope and desperation. They wrapped the precious quilt and took it along with a few necessities to spend the night with Mike's parents.

"I can't promise anything," Frances Thompson said as she dubiously examined the damaged quilt, "but I'll give it my best shot! After all, it's a blue ribbon winner and survivor just like the two of you and certainly deserves my utmost attention and loving care. How ironic!" she said. "God must have a real sense of humor for the Oklahoma Twister block in the center of the quilt to be the only block that needs no mending."

Frances worked on the Twister quilt all summer long. She gingerly washed and rewashed the quilt to get the asbestos out. Then, tediously, she appliquéd thirty-nine hearts to cover the tears. Fortunately she had squirreled away enough of the original fabric scraps to make the restorations unnoticeable.

In the meantime, Mike and Shirley bought a home in Norman and began settling in. Frances made duplicates of as many of the missing family pictures as she had and presented them, along with the restored quilt, as a housewarming gift.

"Wow!" Shirley exclaimed. "It looks better than new! Thank you so much for your gift of love and labor You can't imagine how much we've missed our wedding quilt and how much it means to us that you cared enough to spend the long hours to recreate it! She gave her mother-in-law a happy hug and then said, "I'm twice blessed and will cherish it forever. It's going back on our bed to christen our new house and celebrate our new beginning. It will be our lasting remembrance of your love, God's protection, and the tornado that made us all realize how important family is."

Psalms 91:2,4 "I will say of the LORD, 'He is my refuge and my fortress; my God, in Him I will trust.'... He shall cover you with His feathers, and under His wings you shall take refuge;" NKJ

Sample Story:

3rd Place Winner of 2005 Oklahoma Writers Federation Inc. District Contest

Grapes of Wrath Yield Treasures
as told by Dorotha Jean Dani

It was 105 degrees that summer day of 1935, when I saw a sight I’ll never forget. I was six years old and fetching eggs when a flock of mismatched birds landed on the parched ground that had been our vegetable garden before heat seared and shriveled every last zucchini and tomato. These birds were agitated and clearly exhausted. I looked at the sky and screamed to Mama as I ran into our small frame farmhouse south of Cordell, Oklahoma, "Mama, Mama, a huge black cloud is coming again."

"Quick," she shouted at me, "ring the dinner gong to call the others in from the fields. Every minute counts." Already Mama was reaching for a quilt. "Then run right back in here and help me drape this table. We'll get under our tent to protect our lungs from flying dirt."

Within ten minutes the sky was completely black with howling winds and cutting sand and dust that could choke the life from any creature. Soon the whole family was huddled beneath the quilts and praying that God would spare the cows, pigs and chickens and what was left of the crop, one more time.

Such was life in the Dust Bowl Days of western Oklahoma, our tent days and nights repeated over and over. That natural hardship combined with the Great Depression, was made worse by the fact that my dad was ill and unable to work during most of my childhood. But Daddy could do one thing. I remember the beautiful String quilt he made by hand my first year of school. During Dad's convalescence, he gained a feeling of accomplishment by creating beauty from cast-off scraps of fabric. And the family gained needed warm bedding. Piecing and quilting also became Dad's therapy -- a quiet time when he could pray and meditate on God’s promises to provide. He dreamed of the time he and his family could join the thousands of other farmers in their flight for jobs and a better life in California.

Since Mother was forced to do most of the farm work, she didn’t have much leisure time for needlework. But I remember the beautiful Friendship quilt she made with all the signed quilt blocks of church friends and family. All the neighbor ladies gathered at our house to complete her Friendship quilt. We prepared a feast to celebrate, cleared away the mess, then lowered the quilting frame from the ceiling. Needles flew amidst much gossip and laughter. By the end of the long day, the quilt was finished and I had learned to quilt just from watching. The ladies graciously allowed me to put in the last few stitches just to appease my incessant requests to help.

In those days of little money or means, entertainment revolved around school and church activities. Every summer a visiting minister came for an all-day revival under the brush arbor. We enjoyed singing and praising God for His faithfulness. Afterwards we shared a potluck feast and a watermelon feed that climaxed the unforgettable event.

In 1943 during World War II, Dad’s dream for a better life in California became a reality. We moved to Sacramento. That’s where I met my husband, Charles, who had just returned from the war. We married in 1947 and Charles' Mom made us a beautiful wedding quilt, which I still treasure.

Within that barren landscape of the Great Depression and Oklahoma's Dust Bowl Days were other treasures which I hold dear. Ours was a story of courage, hope and love in the midst of poverty and struggles against drought and endless dust that was as much a part of life as sunshine and air. The hardships bound our family together in unity and dependence on God’s daily provision, making us stronger in our faith, able to withstand any heartache.

"Through the Lord's mercies we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not. They are new every morning. Great is Your faithfulness. 'The LORD is my portion,' says my soul. 'Therefore I hope in Him!'" Lamentations 3:22-24

Sample Story:

A Quilt for Chase and Colton
as told by Kathy Wilburn Sanders

Kathy Wilburn woke with a slow stretch before remembering the date. April 19. Years before on this date she'd given birth to her daughter, Edye. She rolled over and smiled into her pillow. Edye was a grown woman and mother now, and that umbilical connection from mother to child had stretched to include a whole new generation -- her sons, Colton and Chase. Kathy glanced at the clock, and pulled herself out of bed to dress for work. She and Edye worked in the same building in downtown Oklahoma City. Kathy couldn't help wonder how Edye was feeling this morning. She'd been home with strep throat the past two days, but her co-workers had baked a cake and planned a surprise party at the office. Edye knew something was up and wouldn't want to miss it.

Just as Kathy suspected, Edye dropped Chase and Colton off at the daycare located in the Alfred P. Murrah Building before reporting for work.

"Surprise! Happy birthday!"

Candles stood on the birthday cake like sentinels with blazing hats. Laughing, Edye took a deep breath and blew....

At that moment, a rental truck loaded with ammonium nitrate blew half the nine-story Murrah building into oblivion. Candles wobbled as the building where Edye and Kathy worked trembled from the blast.

Kathy could hear panic clawing at Edye's throat. "Mom, what if it hit the boys?" They raced through smoke, debris and falling glass to the Murrah Building.

The blast that felled the Murrah Building on April 19, 1995, left a crater in the hearts of Kathy Wilburn and Edye Smith. Two-year old Colton and three-year old Chase both died as a result of the bombing.

For nearly two weeks, the whole world watched as exhausted rescue workers pulled bodies from the rubble. After the smoke cleared, 168 people were dead and 400 injured in the worst terrorist attack to date on U.S. soil. The whole nation mourned with the families of those slain.

For the next six years, Kathy traveled the country trying to weave together the events leading up to that fateful day. She retraced the paths Timothy McVeigh and Terry Nichols took leading up to the bombing. She explored white supremacist and anti-government groups. Her investigative reports were used in the documentary, "A Cry for Justice: The Untold Story Behind the Oklahoma City Bombing," produced by MGA Films and released after Timothy McVeigh's execution in April, 2001.

Chase and Colton's family never got to say goodbye. They weren't even allowed to view their bodies. Kathy clings to the chipmunk underwear Chase wore that morning. "I've kept their clothes and toys as reminders, because that's all I have left of the boys," Kathy says. "On April 19, 1995, their lives were erased, and we were left with lives we didn't choose.

"My husband was furious with God, and died of pancreatic cancer two years after the bombing. I didn't know why the boys died, but I knew I couldn't get through the pain without God's grace, which has proven sufficient. I now know that God didn't take my grandchildren, but received them when they died."

Many people responded with acts of kindness, but one stands out to Kathy Wilburn. Susan Smart, from Enid, Oklahoma, called and asked for photos of Colton and Chase. Six months later, Kathy's doorbell rang and Susan presented her with a beautiful quilt covered with all the boys' pictures, telling the story of their lives.

Another memorial quilt featured a little boy with angel wings in the center, surrounded by nine patch blocks and star quilting on a cloud print background. The penned inscription reads, "In memory of Colton and Chase Smith, Budded on earth to bloom in heaven. A gift of loving stitches from Lincoln Nebraska Quilter's Guild." "I carry the scars from that day just as if I were burned," Kathy says. "But I've learned that every day is a gift from God that I must spend wisely.

April 19, 1995, is one such day.

It's the day of Chase and Colton's death.

It's also the day their mother was born.

Sometimes the loss seems to outweigh the joy. When that happens, Kathy wraps herself in a quilt and the joyous memories it holds.

"My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness." 2 Corinthians 12:9

Sample Story:

Blankie Bliss
by Lisa Alexander

I groggily answer the late-night phone call. "Mommy," my eight-year-old daughter Emmali whispers. "Mommy, I forgot my blanket." She is spending the night four houses away. I suggest that her friend will let her borrow one. "No, Mommy. She doesn't have anything I can go to sleep with. I need my blankie..."

The blankie! That piece of frayed cloth Emmali carries to bed to sleep with. It was originally part of a nursery set my mother had made. A small quilt with glorious pastel pink and blue angels soaring across flannel skies. Now, the faded seraphim barely cling to the quilt's cotton backing. As a baby, Emmali had loved pressing the soft material against her cherub cheeks and twisting the lacy border between her tiny fingers.

As she outgrew diapers and bottles, I began easing the threadbare blankie from her grasp. She reluctantly allowed me to put it up for safekeeping with her older brother's blankets. All three of the blankets remained tucked away in the top of the linen closet for several years. Then, in a day of spring-cleaning, every towel, sheet and blanket was removed from the closet. Emmali, then seven, spied a corner of her blankie in the pile and quickly grabbed it, pulling it close to her face as she had done when she was a baby. Since reuniting with this long-ago friend, she has nestled with it each night.

Except on this night, when she phones at nearly 11:00 p.m., begging me to bring it to her. No, she says, she cannot make it through just this one night without it. A former blankie-toting child myself, I understand her desperation. I plod down the stairs in search of my shoes.

"Where ya goin', Mom?" my 14 year-old son, Riles, asks. When I tell him about the phone call, he offers to take the blanket to his sister. I smile, remembering the farm blankie he had been so attached to when he was young. He would understand.

On this late night, Riles gets on his bike, flinging Emmali's blankie over his shoulder. As he zooms down the street, the tattered quilt seems to transform into the cape of a superhero.

Before returning to bed, I stop by my baby's room to hear the reassuring rhythm of her breathing. Grace tugs at her tiny quilt as if she is trying to catch the pastel pink, purple and blue butterflies that flutter across it. Butterflies of beauty they are tonight, though faded they will surely be in years to come. Faded, but well-loved.

"He gives them security, and they rely on it;" Job 24:23

Sample Story:

Dancing Quilts
by M. Carolyn Steele

It was autumn when the thought occurred. The time of storytelling, the Indians would say, when the weather turned cold and everyone wanted to stay warm and trade stories in front of a good fire. Now, however, we adjust the thermostat, and turn on the television. The television - spilling out an assortment of entertainment, usurping the moments when husbands and wives used to share thoughts.

I assumed, at the time, that our recent retirement brought on these observations. But now I am made to think I was bored and lonely. Because, it was then I turned my attention to the ancient trunk that served as a coffee table.

Discovered in the attic, it was hauled down to serve as a toy box. I brightened the dull surface with a coat of yellow paint and peopled the sides with knights and castles sporting flying banners. It held an assortment of toys until our daughters outgrew such things. I claimed the trunk for remnants of fabric when they reached high school and I returned to work as a commercial artist.

"Come here," I called to my husband, Carl, who sat contented with the television's company. Help me get this glass top off. I want to see what material is in here."

"Are you going to sew something?", he asked.

"No. I just want to see what's inside. Don't you?"

"Not really," he shrugged. But he hefted the large glass slab off the trunk top and onto the carpet. "Must weigh a hundred pounds," he grumbled.

Piles of bright fabric greeted us when we lifted the lid. Hot pinks, oranges, reds, yellows and purples stirred together with strands of glittering sequins.

"Left-over material from all those dance costumes I made for the girls." I fingered a pink knit. "This is from Traci's 'Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy' number. I stamped a million rhinestones on the thing. Remember?"

"What I remember is I thought I'd go crazy if I heard that song one more time." Carl whistled a few stanzas of the tune whisking us back to the years when our daughters were young and our lives active.

It felt good to recall those busy days. We spent the next hour pulling out shiny satins and knits, trying to recall the dance names each fabric represented. Carl discovered a length of yellow fringe.

"That went with this material." I pointed to a bright yellow remnant. "It was one of Teri's costumes. The fringe went all down the sleeves.

"Yeah." He frowned. "Wasn't that the picture where she posed like an Egyptian dancer with her hands clasped up over her head? Where are those pictures?"

Where indeed? Stuck in albums, which were stuck in the hall closet. Shut away, just like this material. A piece of red satin shimmered. After all these years, the colors remain vibrant and bold. Scraps of memories. It seemed a shame to throw them away, yet what can you do with scraps?

I like to think it was the material, desperate to be free of the trunk, that whispered the thought -- fashion a quilt. One for each girl. A quilt of many colors. I tested the idea.

"What would you think if I made these into quilts for Teri and Traci? We could give them for Christmas."

Carl nodded. "I have an idea. You know how people transfer a picture of themselves onto a tee-shirt? Let's hunt up some dance pictures, have them transferred onto white cotton, and surround it with the corresponding fabric."

Ah, I thought, the material has been whispering to you, too.

"You're a genius, " I said, amazed at his interest.

"Have you ever made a quilt?"

"No, but how hard can it be?"

It didn't take long to realize the folly of my words. We measured and re-measured, deciding on the size and number of squares. Carl designed a grid on the computer and we sat for hours moving the colored squares around.

I was reminded of how much we had enjoyed working together. In the early days, we shared responsibilities on church committees. It had drawn us close and strong in our faith. What happened to us over the years as we worked hard in our respective professions? We drifted away until we became independent of each other.

Carl abandoned the television to flip through albums with me and select photos, reminiscing about each one. The years passed before our eyes as curly-headed little girls became shapely teenagers.

For the first time my husband accompanied me to the fabric store. Together we chose what colors would compliment the dance fabrics. He helped pull the quilt layers taut and stake them with quilting pins on the living room carpet. The whispered idea became a labor of love as the quilts took shape and acquired a certain attitude, youthful and vibrant.

Our daughters were delighted at Christmas with their dancing quilts. Though they didn't know it, their father and I have been given a gift, too. We rediscovered each others' company and a life of shared memories. I wonder, now, why I decided to open a long-closed trunk. Perhaps God chose that moment to touch our souls and remind us of our blessings.

"And my soul shall be joyful in the LORD; It shall rejoice in His salvation." Psalm 35:9

Sample Story:

From Rags to Riches
by Carla Burt

It began as a sewing lesson for our small class of Life Skills students in the Fall of 2002. Our lead teacher, an experienced quilter, decided that having each child make a quilt for someone less fortunate could teach more than sewing skills.

What an unexpected and wonderful lesson we received! Over the next several months the students carefully selected, ironed, cut and sewed donated material under the helpful eye of our teacher, along with me, the teacher's aide, and also with the help of our occupational therapist. The students decided to give their quilts to the children at the Uzwelo orphanage in Piet Relief, South Africa -- small victims of the AIDS pandemic.

A local newspaper reporter visited the class to view the fruits of their labors. The story and photo of the students and the quilts appeared in our local newspaper and then the project began to snowball. I received telephone calls from people whose hearts are easily touched by the hurts and needs of others. "Could I please make a quilt for the children?"

"Our youth group would like to make quilts for the orphans."

"I've never quilted, by my friend is willing to help me. May I donate a quilt?"

For me, it was a humbling experience to see the outpouring of love and concern.

In June of 2003 I packed up 15 quilts and headed to Africa to be with my daughter for the birth of her first child. Miraculously, that number of quilts exactly matched the number of children and caregivers living at Uzwelo. In Africa most people live on the edge of survival. Blankets are treasured possessions, often used as backpacks to carry children and later to provide warmth for them against the freezing nights.

Arriving at Uzwelo ("Mercy" in Zulu), we displayed these colorful gifts of love on a fence. Africans love color. One by one, beginning with the house mothers and down to two-year-old Boetie ("little brother") each member of the Uzwelo family chose his favorite quilt. Each child, black eyes wide with awe, waited patiently for his turn to lovingly pick out and then to touch his quilt. Joy lit every face as they gently lifted their quilts off the fence. The hugs, tears, smiles and repeated "Thank-you, Thank-you" were unspeakably endearing as recipients delightfully wrapped their quilts around them. The drab yard danced as if filled with beautifully colored butterflies.

Out of one person's cast-off rags emerged precious riches, sent with love to bless and enrich the lives of other, unseen, unmet, yet cared for and valued just the same. One small act of kindness by three young handicapped children blossomed into blessing for many, many more, both givers and receivers alike.

More quilts have been made and sent by the youth group at All Saints Parish in Peterboro, New Hampshire. Funds raised by youth groups from New Hampshire, Massachusetts and California have enabled Wellspring Ministries in Piet Retief to purchase a food freezer and begin a weekly food program for mothers and children who used to forage daily at the local dump.

"Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven." Matthew 5:16

Sample Story:

A Blanket of Prayers
by Dorothy Palmer Young

When I learned that my son, Daniel, was to be deployed to Iraq, I immediately set up an e-mail prayer group. I invited my friends, and those I knew who were friends of Dan and his wife Lori to sign-up for e-mail prayer updates about his needs. The response was heartening. So many friends, and even strangers, offered to pray.

Working out at the YMCA one day, I encountered my friend, Sandy. She quickly agreed to pray for Daniel. Then she volunteered, "In my church, Dorothy, when we are blanketing someone in prayer, we present them with an actual blanket we have made. It's a physical reminder of all the prayers going to God on their behalf."

I loved the idea. By the time I completed my workout, I had mentally completed a rough design of a prayer blanket for Dan and Lori. In Iraq, traveling light, Dan wouldn't have room to lug around an extra blanket with his gear, even a small one. Waiting in Germany, however, Lori would not only have room in their little house, but room in her empty arms as well. A warm, cuddly, comforting blanket would be perfect.

Soon I met with Lori's mom, Sheryl, to talk. "Let's make a prayer blanket together for Dan and Lori," I suggested. "Wouldn't it be great if the people praying for Dan's mission and safety could actually sign it?" She loved the idea.

That's when the blanket became a cream and gold colored nine-square quilt. By using squares, Sheryl and I could each take one or more of the 12-inch squares with us everywhere we went. Hooped and ready, each broadcloth square was soon filled with the autographs of "pray-ers". From across the country we received signatures by mail and e-mail. These too were traced onto squares.

Dan left Germany for Iraq in early February. For weeks I sent out prayer updates and gathered names on the quilt pieces. When Dan first left home to join the army years earlier, my husband, Bob, had chosen a Bible verse for him. For all that time, Bob closed every correspondence to his son with his special scripture. I knew that verse must be the centerpiece of the prayer blanket; it had such deep meaning for us all. Psalm 20:7, "Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God." Everyday we entrust ourselves and our son to God. That is at the center of our prayers, and would be embroidered at the center of the "blanket."

By mid-March, Sheryl and I had collected over 200 signatures. It was time to assemble the prayer blanket. I joined the squares, added the filler, backing and border. With some simple hand tying, the blanket was complete. I snuggled up to its soft flannel backing and traced around the handwritten signatures with my finger. How good these friends were to care for Dan and Lori, to pray so much for them. How Dan and Lori would love the message behind this blanket, as well as the blanket itself. I tenderly folded and boxed the finished quilt-blanket for a special journey.

Lori's mom and dad traveled to Germany to visit Lori. They took that precious gift to deliver in person. At home in Oklahoma, I imagined Lori's reaction. I cried as I thought about the moment she would open the package.

I soon heard from Lori. "Thank you so much for the beautiful quilt," she wrote. "I was shocked when Mom and Dad gave it to me... It means a lot to know we have so many praying for us... I emailed a picture of the quilt to Dan and told him about it. You guys are great."

Over the next weeks, as Lori and I talked by phone, she continued to express her appreciation. "I'm amazed at how many people are praying for us. It's awesome. Sometimes I just sit in my chair with the blanket wrapped around me. I really do feel like Dan and I both are blanketed in prayer."

I'm glad I could be part of creating something so meaningful to Lori and Dan, as he served his country in Iraq. It wasn't until after I put in the final stitches and sent off the quilt that I realized it wasn't just a gift that friends and strangers had given to Lori and Dan. It was also a great blessing to me! With every voice of "Yes, please let me sign the quilt; I'm praying for them every day," I was encouraged. Every time someone asked, "Do you have the quilt with you? I want Lori and Dan to know we are praying," it ministered to my own heart.

Dan safely completed his tour in Iraq. He and Lori moved to Italy for another assignment. The prayer blanket hangs in a place of honor in my heart. Not only does it represent the many prayers for Dan and Lori, it represents the many friends who blessed me as well.