When our oldest son, Christopher, was a little boy transitioning from a crib to a big bed, I pieced together a  nine patch quilt for his new bed. I cut my teeth on my mom's old Singer, and had tackled many thready projects, but this was my first attempt at a quilt. I bought a simple, "how to" guide and devoted dozens of hours to selecting and assembling those three inch squares of fabric. I chose a blue/red nautical theme without much white background visible, since little boys are dirt magnets. Once the top of the quilt was completely pieced, I carefully pinned it on top of simple fabric for the back of the quilt, with a plush layer of quilt batting nestled in between. And then I sewed for hours, machine quilting all the layers together in a straight pattern. A handmade quilt is not the most efficient way to produce a layer of warmth for a bed; it is an artistic expression and a labor of love. 

Not only did young Christopher get tucked in under his quilt at night, but he was also covered in prayers by his parents. Although we didn't know her name or how beautiful she was, we were praying for Tiffany, our son's future wife, for many years. She was busy growing up in NYC, wrapped in the love of her family. The two met as freshman, at Middlebury College, in rural Vermont. Despite the fact that they dated for a year, in true Schlabach, hold-your-cards-close-to-your-chest fashion, we never heard about Tiffany. They parted ways for a few years. When Chris was home the summer of 2013, my mother antenna detected something. Occasionally he would get a phone call; his voice would change and he would always leave the room to talk. When I quizzed him about the caller, he said it was a college friend, a girl from NYC, who he was just keeping in touch with. He said that he had helped her learn to drive on the rural Vermont roads, since she hadn't needed a driver's license in the city. 

In October, Larry and I planned a weekend trip to rural, autumnal Vermont. We hiked and enjoyed the colorful, Robert Frost, countryside. Chris was busy with school, but we arranged to meet him for dinner in Middlebury, on Saturday evening. He asked if it was okay for him to bring a friend along. We said, "sure", thinking it would be one of the guys from the tennis team. We touched base with him on Friday, confirming the dinner details, and the pronoun, "she" suddenly hung in the air. And they weren't just friends; they were dating. You can only imagine how our curiosity was piqued! The four of us shared dinner at Jessica's at Swift House Inn, in Middlebury. Tiffany was sweet and lovely and nervous. We were just trying to wrap our minds around the fact that our son, who hadn't really dated, had a girlfriend. Prophetically, Larry ordered a special bottle of shiraz, Molly Dooker's Carnival of Love, to pair with our dinner. Who would have guessed that two years later, we would be ordering this very wine from Australia, to serve at Chris and Tiffany's wedding?!

Over the next year and a half, we watched this beautiful, long distance, relationship develop; Chris was in Chattanooga and Tiffany was working in New York. She visited us several times and Chris would go to the city to be with her family. We loved getting to know her!

And then, there was a ring, an engagement, wedding plans, and finally, nuptials!

Having never been a mother-in-law before, this was unchartered territory. One day, about a month before the wedding, as Tiffany and I were driving, I had a heart-to-heart with her. I told her that since she and Chris were going to be living in Chattanooga, I wanted her to know that I would respect their newly formed family. As her mother-in-law, I would not have hidden agendas or make assumptions about their time. My son's first loyalty must always be to his wife, and not to his mother. If I needed them for something, I would not drop hints, but would be direct. I also needed to know that they felt the freedom to create their own schedule and that they felt free to decline a dinner invitation from me, that there was never any pressure. 

Not knowing me well, I'm sure Tiffany was taken aback by my directness and forthright approach. Several months after their marriage, the newlyweds were at our house one evening. Tiffany, who is kind beyond any person I have ever met, falteringly told me about a conversation she had with Chris. She wanted to know how often he had eaten dinner with us, after he moved out into his own apartment. Perhaps a couple of times a week, I would text him and tell him what I was cooking and then he would join us for dinner. Tiffany said she told Chris that if it were okay, she would really like to eat dinner with us that often. Was that okay?!! I LOVED that she asked! I was trying so consciously not to interfere, but yes, we want you to come over often!!!

One spring evening, we were sitting out on the deck, enjoying the company of friends. It got chilly once the sun had set, so I gathered some blankets to wrap around our shoulders. I purposefully handed Tiffany the quilt that I had made for little Christopher, and told her the sentimental story.  As she and Chris wrapped themselves in that old blanket, she said longingly, "I wish that I could make a quilt." Tiffany, my dear, be very careful with statements like that around your domestic goddess mother-in-law.

Several weeks later, I asked my new daughter if she was serious about wanting to sew a quilt. She had never used a sewing machine, but was quite excited at the prospect. The two of us commenced over the summer with "The Dance of the Quilt". We spent a whole afternoon looking at quilt patterns, and settled on the same nine patch that I had used all those years ago for my little boy's coverlet. We spent hours at JoAnn Fabrics, choosing a color scheme, and then finding just the right fabrics to compliment each other. We cut out nearly a million little squares of fabric. (Okay, maybe it was a thousand). And Tiffany learned to use the sewing machine. 

I loved seeing Tiffany's creative choices emerge. She wanted a color palette that complimented Chris's old quilt, but could stand on its own. And one of the fabrics has tiny anchors printed on, a nod to the original nautical theme. As the quilt came together, and we finalized the color for the back, we realized that with the tan and blue combination, it was like sand and water, or earth and sky.  

In the midst of our sewing project, Tiffany and I had joined together more than seams of fabric; we had forged a dear friendship over the hours spent on this quilt. I nearly come unraveled when I think about how my new daughter has chosen to enter into my domestic world, as a way to learn a new skill, but also as a way to get to know me better. She is a treasure and I have high-fived my son more than once for finding her and convincing her to marry him!