Long Ago Lessons

Rrrriiiiiiiip.

The sound of tearing paper jolted me awake in the darkness. That distinct, enthusiastic ripping could only mean one thing: my toddler had discovered the Christmas presents. My heart sank as I lay there listening, knowing exactly what was happening in our living room at 2 AM.

You see, as a young couple, my husband and I were Christmas newcomers. Neither of us grew up celebrating the holiday, so when we decided to embrace the tradition in our own young family, everything felt magical and new. 

That year, with a toddler and a baby, we barely had 2 dimes to rub together. Under our modest tree, each wrapped package was precious – and I knew there was one single gift with my name on it.

I slipped out of bed, my bare feet silent on the cold floor, and found my little boy surrounded by shreds of red and green paper. His face glowed with delight as he examined my new measuring cups. After all, they were shiny stainless steel 😉

Those simple measuring cups had been chosen with such care by my husband, who knew I’d been using a set with broken handles for months.

I’ll admit it – there were tears. It wasn’t about the measuring cups themselves, but about missing out on that moment of surprise and joy I’d been anticipating. 

But as Christmas Day unfolded, something shifted. We made pancakes together, my son proudly helping me measure flour with the new cups. We sang carols while the baby banged wooden spoons and lids. We built a fort out of empty boxes and wrapping paper. No fancy dinner, no expensive gifts – just our little family, being present with each other.

By evening, I realized something profound. 

The “ruined” surprise had made way for something far more valuable: the understanding that Christmas magic doesn’t come from perfect moments. It comes from connection, from love, from being together. 

Today’s Struggle

Did you start with a shiny vision:

• perfect free motion feathers flowing effortlessly?
• quilts completed in record time?
• customers lining up at your door?

And has reality been a little different?

Rather than flowing feathers, you’re practicing basic loops until your shoulders ache.

The perfectly planned quilting design goes wonky in one corner. Or worse, there’s a pleat on the backing you so carefully loaded 😡

You find yourself adjusting tension for the bazillionth time. 

Or maybe, you don’t even know WHY but it just won’t work! Trust me, I’ve been there. I’ve actually packed it in, when I just couldn’t stand it anymore! (In fact, it happened before an audience right here 😜)

Side note: Stopping and coming back to it tomorrow is a legitimate option. Sometimes the very best one!

Struggle is Where the Magic Happens

One day, you realize you can hear when something’s not right before you even look at your stitches. 

Your hands know exactly how to move for smooth, consistent curves. 

You develop a feel for how much you can “zhuzh” the fabric to square up the quilt. 

This deep understanding – earned through struggles and “mistakes” – is far more valuable than any instant perfection could have been.

Remember the first time you finished a quilt that made your customer cry? Not because every stitch was perfect, but because your quilting brought their piecing to life in ways they never imagined.

Or that moment when you looked at a challenge and thought, “I know exactly how to handle this” – a confidence born from working through countless challenges before.

The greatest joy often comes from conquering those early struggles. 

Every “imperfect” quilt teaches you something new about design, about working with different fabrics, about bringing out the beauty in others’ work. 

You develop an artist’s eye and a technician’s understanding – a combination that no “perfect” beginning could have given you.

Like my Christmas morning revelation, the real gift isn’t in having everything go smoothly. For a quilter, it’s in the deep satisfaction of mastering something challenging, – not despite the struggles, but because of them.

The best gifts – whether they’re measuring cups or quilting skills – often come wrapped in unexpected packages. And sometimes, those imperfect beginnings lead us to a place far better than we initially imagined.