The Quilt, A Dog And Grace That Brought Her Back To Church
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(ESSAY) My husband’s aunt is a quilter. Her quilts are intricately designed and made with great love. When we adopted our son, Louise made him a crib-size quilt in greens, blues and black. On it, she’d written in one corner, “This Magic 9 Quilt was Made for Joey Evans to Welcome Him into Our Family. Finished 1/09. Love, Aunt Louise.” It is a true heirloom.
Like any gifted textile artist, Louise can see the finished product in the pieces of fabric that are available. Another one of her masterpieces is the quilt which she made from dog bandanas. Maggie, my mother-in-law, received these bandanas every time she took her little dog to be groomed. The quilt is a colorful “crazy quilt,” a tribute to recycling fabric that might just be tossed or worn around a puppy’s neck until it fell apart.
This quilt was one of the few things that Maggie kept when her dog, Autumn, died recently. Everything else – dog treats, food and toys – went to the animal shelter. Autumn was 14 and very sick with cancer and other illnesses. Day by day, she tried to hold on, but one Saturday, the dog passed away in Maggie’s arms.
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Maggie was crushed. Autumn was Maggie’s “reason for getting up in the morning.” At 83 and widowed, Maggie would miss taking Autumn for walks and giving her daily feedings and “snickies” (treats!). The two, woman and dog, had carved out a life together.
To say that Maggie got depressed was an understatement. She started whispering things such as “I don’t know how I’m going to go on without her,” and “I just can’t do this.” As her daughter-in-law, I grew worried and investigated flying up to the East Coast to be with her. I worked part-time as a writing teacher; I could get up there on a Thursday and fly home on Sunday and not miss a day of class. But thankfully, Maggie’s hopeless mood was only temporary.
About three weeks after Autumn passed, my husband and I were talking on the phone with Maggie. She expressed her usual sadness and loneliness over the dog, but then, she said, “I’ve got to get in the shower because I’ve got to get to church at 12:00.”
This was a new development. Maggie hadn’t been going to church in recent years. In prior times, she’d been a devout Catholic, the kind who wouldn’t miss the Stations of the Cross ritual every week, but as she aged, she’d drifted away from all church activities, including weekly Mass.
“It’s just TV Mass, but I don’t want to be late,” she told us.
Hallelujah! I thought. Something had saved Maggie from the brink of despair. And it was Jesus Christ.
Could it get any better than that?
My own family had stopped going to Mass, but seeing Maggie going back to church influenced us. Why wait until a huge loss to draw nourishment and solace from the Church?
What a Christmas it will be this year! Maggie, my husband, my son and I will stand in church, thanking God for his blessings. We will be there in person, in attendance, and not in the TV viewing audience. We’ll pray; we’ll sing; we’ll offer each other the sign of peace, and we’ll take Communion. God, I miss that spiritual nourishment.
Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven. Maggie not only took herself back to church, but she also would take us. I just knew it. I just hoped for it.
Maggie told me the other day on the phone, “Laura,” she said. “There are animals in Heaven.”
She was looking forward to the day she’d see Autumn again.
“I know,” I said, marveling at how resiliently we get over the great abyss and back to living. Sometimes. With a little help from God.
“In Heaven, we’ll all be together, and there will be no tears or pain. I love you, mom.”
“I love you, too, Laura. I miss her so much! She was so cute. And what a good dog. She never bit anyone … and she was such a sweetheart. She was gentle with children. She stayed with me when we walked by the ocean. What can I say? She was perfect.”
“Yes, she was. You were lucky to have each other.”
And the quilt that Louise made from dog bandanas? When my husband, my son and I travel to the East Coast to visit Maggie this winter, I plan to help her hang the quilt on the wall as a remembrance to Autumn, the little dog who saved her life, at least temporarily, until a bigger force, the Lord, could step in and truly save her.
Laura Yeager writes religious essays, articles and prayers that have appeared at Aleteia, Busted Halo, Guideposts, The Liguorian, Angels on Earth and Devozine.