Free Scraps of Love by Rhonda Gibson Page A

heart leaped as she pulled
out an envelope. She set the basket off to the side and stood up and carried
the faded envelope to the table. Then she sat down and opened it.
         Inside she found a piece of
paper. Colleen unfolded the treasure.
         Tears filled her eyes as she
read the letter from the past:
         My dearest son,
              This quilt is the story
of your family and the love that binds us together as truly as the threads that
hold together these pieces of cloth.
         I began this quilt as a new
bride. I didn’t know any more about sewing than I did about being a wife, but I
knew about love. The pieces of my wedding dress are in here and form the center
block. They are the delicate spring green swatches. It’s the same green, by the
way, you’ll see when the first wildflowers poke their brave heads through the
winter-worn earth.
         There are a few patches of
white in this quilt. They are cut from the shirt your father wore when we got
married. Ah, John, what a fine figure he presented that day! I can still see
him in my mind, so elegant, so handsome, so sure… and so very much in
possession of my heart.
         The little patches were once
your blanket. This was the first earthly fabric that touched your newborn skin.
The Yellow-spotted flannel looked so warm against your infant skin, like God
had poured the sun around your tiny body. It was cold the night you were
born-so cold the doctors breath froze in midair-but you quickly warmed our
hearts.
         As our family grew, so did our
love- and the quilt. Notice how the stitches get more even and practiced on the
other patches. I was just learning in the center section, but the patches,
straggle though they may be, are still holding together after many years of
hard use.
         Love is like that, John. At
first, it’s all very new and awkward, but if you’re willing to put your heart
into it, it’ll hold steadfast. There aren’t any silk or satin, or velvet pieces
in this quilt, but to me, its beauty far exceeds the grandest coverlet. Even
the littlest, most mundane pieces of life make an extraordinary tapestry when
united by love… these scraps of love.
                                      Your
loving mother
                                      Bridget
Streeter Collins
         No longer able to control her
tears, Colleen whipped the streams from her face. Had Grammy known Adam would
enter her life again when he delivered the coat?
         Colleen picked up the coat and
sewing basket, then stood to her feet. She walked back to the kitchen table and
set all the items down. The scraps brought Adam into her life, but indirectly
they had brought her closer to God.
         Colleen reached for her cup of
chocolate. Fear of rejection shot through her as she whispered to the quiet
room, “I have to tell him I love him and ask his forgiveness.”
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

Chapter 12
     
    Adam paced
his living-room floor. He and Jenny had gotten home the night before. He’d
asked Jenny not to go to Colleen’s before he had a chance to talk to her. He
knew he owed Colleen an apology. Would she forgive him? He’d walked out on her
and hadn’t looked back.
    He opened
the small jewelry box and stared down at the wedding set that sat on a cushion
of red velvet. Adam couldn’t believe he bought the ring. But he knew in his
heart that Colleen was the woman for him, and he thought she knew it, too.
    He pulled
his coat on and stepped into the cold afternoon air. The desire to talk to
Colleen filled him with longing. Adam walked in the direction of her house.
    All the
way, he tried to come up with ways to say he was sorry. Adam finally gave up.
He stopped two blocks from her house. A small park on the side of the road
beckoned him to enter its sanctuary. He took the path that led to a beautiful
river. Adam sat down on a huge rock beside the water, which