The Christmas Quilt and the Zion Creek Ladies Circle

Come into the Gathering Room at Zion Creek. Make yourself at home. Drink a cup of coffee, hot chocolate, tea--eat a slice of pecan pound cake, cinnamon roll, or munch on Estelle's famous Moravian Sugar Cookies. And then pull up a seat at the quilt frame--join in the laughter and sometimes tears, as the Ladies of Zion Creek share their Christmas stories of days past, as they stitch together a very special Christmas quilt. (First in the series--available each Tuesday evening/Wednesday morning for the next few weeks).

Written by Tathel Miller

Estelle Tucker had called a special meeting–announced it following worship service on the last Sabbath.  All ladies interested in helping with the Christmas quilt project–be at the Gathering Room on Saturday morning, October 10th.  Be there by 10am!  Bring snacks too and Christmas fabric–old or new–scraps–or by the yard.  

The Gathering Room was next door to the Fellowship Hall so it was fairly easy for the ladies of Zion Creek to enjoy both the sewing and the eating.  And they did enjoy their snacks, especially when Cora brought her famous coconut fudge or peanut butter cookies and Estelle's Moravian Sugar Cookies.

It was chilly on this October morning–Estelle got to the Gathering Room first and cranked up the heat to seventy-six. Some of the elders of the church like to keep the buildings cool–down-right cold on some days. But Estelle, who has been known to call these elders “tightwads”, gave more than her fair share of tithes and if she wanted to burn a gallon or two of oil out of the furnace to keep warm–well that’s what she was going to do.  

Now Estelle was somewhat the leader of the Zion Creek Ladies Circle.  It had never been publicly announced out loud–but she took her role serious, with her keen organizational skills, wit, and what others describe as her expert, “bossy ways.”  Heaven knows her husband Henry of fifty-two years knew a thing or two about her “bossy ways.” 

The door to the Gathering Room door opens and in walks Cora and her daughter, Anna Kate–the youngest member of the Zion Creek Ladies Circle.  Anna Kate is a newlywed–living with her Mama and Daddy for a while longer–her new husband–a military man. He's deployed and serving his country in France this Christmas season.

“Good morning Estelle!”, Cora says in her pleasant way. “My goodness it’s toasty in here. Feels good compared to outside. Anna Kate, do you mind taking our cinnamon rolls over to the Fellowship Hall and place them in the warmer.  Turn it on low, that should be fine.” 

“And while you are at it, turn up the heat over there–seventy-six is good!” Estelle yells. 

A few more ladies came rolling in like the north wind, Bea, Minnie, Bernice, and Wilma. There were a few missing–used the excuse they didn’t want to get out in the cold. Ava, the preacher’s wife, wasn't there either. Ava’s family owned a pumpkin farm and she had promised her Mama she would help with the baking of pumpkin pies on that Saturday. 

It was good she wasn’t there, all the same, considering the ladies of the Circle had told a little white lie.  The Christmas quilt was going to be a gift for Ava and the pastor–not for the missionary family in Montana.  Estelle says little white lies are acceptable when it comes to Christmas and birthday gifts and surprises.  Minnie disagrees.

Estelle stands and takes control of the meeting–no surprises there, “Ladies, the warming oven is on over in the Fellowship Hall if any of your snacks need to stay heated.  Hurry back over here and we’ll get to work.” 

“Estelle, where do you want us to lay out all the Christmas fabric we brought?,” asks Bea.  

“Let’s start over there,” she says, pointing to the longest table in the room.

The table was soon full of every kind of Christmas fabrics–solids of greens and reds and patterns of red poinsettia flowers, gingerbread boys and girls, angels, candy cane stripes of red and white, and one fabric with scenes of the manger, baby Jesus, and Mary and Joseph weaved in the threads. 

“Oh these are such beautiful fabrics!,” Bernice says, touching each one.  “I just love this one–it looks so old–look at it, it looks like it has actual stains on it.” 

“Who’ you calling old? shouts Wilma–Wilma, the one the Ladies of Zion Creek sometimes fondly refers to as “the lady with the dragon’s mouth”. 

“Now Wilma,” Bernice says gently patting Wilma’s shoulder. “I never called you old.  I meant the fabric looked old–what they call vintage.”  

“You are old, Wilma–plenty old, now let’s get to cutting,”  says Estelle as she waves her scissors in the air. 

“I will not until somebody apologizes. What kind of quilt are we making anyway?” 

“It’s called a scrappy quilt, Wilma,” Bea explains. “Remember when we were younger and our Mamas used whatever scraps they had and pieced them together.  There was no pattern really–they just started sewing the scraps together piece by piece.  Looking back, they were masterpieces! And our Christmas quilt will be a masterpiece too!  A beautiful gift from all of us!” 

“It’ll be a mess is what it will be. I’m still waiting for my apology too!,” fires away the dragon lady. 

“Now Wilma, no one here called you old. I think you misunderstood what Bea said” Anna Kate says, taking Wilma’s hand in hers.  “Let’s go over to the Fellowship Hall and try out one of Mama’s warm cinnamon rolls.  I made some coffee too.” 

The flame from the dragon thawed a little and out of the corner of her mouth came a slight grin.  She does love cinnamon rolls with white icing and coffee with lots of cream and sugar–just like her grandmother used to make for her.

“Cora, that daughter of yours sure is good with the old lady!” Estelle laughs.   

“Minnie, Bea you each grab a corner and Cora, you and Bernice grab the other two corners.  We need to get this backing fabric on the quilt frame so we can lay out the scraps and start stitching.” 

“Yes, m’am,” Minnie grins thinking in her mind, ole Estelle lives up to her name–bossy Estelle. 

The ladies stretch the white backing fabric embossed with snowflakes on the quilt frame–tucking in the corners and stretching it tight. Soon the sound of the scissors and snipping would begin–the fabric would transform into squares and blocks and circles and rectangles and shapes yet to be named. And not one inch of fabric would be wasted–no, not one.  

The joining together of the quilters was like a gathering around a warm winter fire. But ask any lady in the Zion Creek Ladies Circle what their favorite part of these quilt making parties were and they would all agree–the food is always good, but the real fun didn’t begin until they all gathered around the quilt frame. Sitting in their straight back chairs–needle and thread in hand and newly shined thimbles on their fingers. And then the stitching would commence along with the stories, and oh the stories they tell. Stories of Christmas’ pasts–of lives lived long ago. Some sad–some funny and some, well–they would scratch their heads, look up from their sewing, roll their eyes and ask, is that the gospel truth? 

And it never failed, Minnie would have to remind her circle sisters–no, the Gathering Room is not in the sanctuary, so to speak–but this is a part of God’s house. So don’t even think about stretching the truth to where there’s no stretching room to be had. 

Anna Kate and Wilma strolls back into the Gathering Room and Wilma shuffles her feet over to the coat rack to find her purse.

Anna Kate asks,  “Where can Wilma and I sit?” 

Bernice points to the two chairs at the end of the quilting frame.  “Take those two.” 

“Come on, Wilma, you can sit next to me,” Anna Kate says

“Give me a minute dear,” as she closes her pink oyster shell compact–just one more pat of powder on the nose and of course, a little dab of “Cherry Red” Avon lipstick.  

“Amazing what a little bit of coffee and a cinnamon roll can do to tame the meanest of beasts!” whispers Minnie cupping her hand over her mouth. 

And they all giggle like middle school girls at a sleepover.  

“Get over here, Wilma. Just why are you dolling up? Putting on lipstick?  Nobody is here to see you, it’s just us!” 

“God sees me, Estelle!” 

And for that, Estelle went silent for only a brief moment. “For heaven’s sake, let’s get to stitching!” and she points her quilting needle at Bernice. “You go first. Tell us a story.” 

“I will, but not before I say a prayer first,” says Bernice in her stern voice–well, as stern as what Estelle would allow. 

"Bless us today Lord to do your good work. Thank you, Father. In Jesus', your Son's name I pray, Amen."

“When I was a little girl we had a Christmas play at my church and there were maybe eight kids at the most.  I really wanted to play Mary and I don’t know why but Mrs. Delia, our play director–well she thought Mary was supposed to have blond hair.  That’s downright ridiculous, but what she said went.  And she pointed right at me and said, Bernice–you will be one of the shepherds. Now, everybody in their minds believe shepherds are men, but I don’t think so.  They are women shepherds too–sorry back to my story.  Now I got a little chapped about not being Mary and cast into a role that most thought should be a boy.  I couldn’t help it because my hair was short and my Mama thought she had to cut it every week or two.  My little sister was given the part of the head angel.  And the two other boys who played the shepherds–LeRoy and Matthew.  Now have you ever heard of a shepherd in the Holy Land named LeRoy?!  But LeRoy was a surprise–I later ended up marrying him. So I guess it wasn't too bad I was a shepherd."

“Oh my,” Cora gasps–with the other ladies'--in shock--with their mouths hanging low like hound dogs on a hunt. “We didn’t know you’d been married before, I mean before Charlie.” 

“Please, let me finish my story!” 

(First in the series--available each Tuesday evening/Wednesday morning for the next few weeks).

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I am grateful for each of you--more than you will ever know and I pray, the stories shared in this

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All photos @copyright Tathel Miller, unless otherwise credited to another photographer.

Soli Deo Gloria