Save Your Strength

I come from a long line of quilters. My mom has made quilts. My aunts are remarkable quilters—so good, in fact, that one was disqualified from the state fair because her stitches were “too perfect.” They assumed it was machine quilted. Not only are these quilts works of art, they represent home and security, family, warmth. Safety.

The second picture in the triptych above my sofa shows two bare feet poking out from underneath a quilt. “Save your strength” is in the upper left corner.

Other captions, for me, could read: “Don’t Leave.” “Be Safe.” “Avoid Stress”  “Stay Together.” “Stay wrapped in a quilt like a fragile bit of glass and don’t risk getting hurt, disappointed, scared, embarrassed …” You get the idea.

Our family had reached a precarious balance, a new normal, and I was desperate to keep everything stable. But there was a problem. This was the exact opposite of my deepest desires for our family. I never wanted my kids to lead a “safe” life. I wanted passion and adventure and daring for them.

My heart was in constant struggle. If something was difficult for Raul—being in crowds or going shopping—well then don’t do it. Stay home. Stay safe. Liam chose to go on a two-month mission trip to Brazil. Stay home. Stay safe. Lydia decided to go to school in New York. Stay home. Stay safe.

No one is prouder of her family than I am. My husband is the most courageous man I know. My kids are bold and independent. They’ve thrown off the security blanket while I, like Linus, am still dragging it around.

But I’m close to letting go.