A Cast, a Quilt, and an Angel

Tomorrow, he loses the cast.

From quilt and cast

For Wally, the cast has been a nuisance standing between him and his pirate ship in the bathtub, an everyday accessory of his favorite color, and a hindrance to his getting a good grip on the rock climbing wall at the playground.

For his brother and sisters, the cast has been a weapon to be feared in the car, and, as of yesterday, the culprit of "what's that smell"?

But for me the cast carries fond memories of that night.

That night that followed that day.

We awoke with a start. Down an adult, since Somebody was traveling, we had only 20 minutes to get everyone ready and out the door, with extra pressure having played our "overslept" card the day before.

With my own hair wet from a quick shower, I asked Kennedy to put the boys in the car while I did Ellie's hair, and a ponytail's time later Wally was crying in pain.

The sound of the school bell loomed, so with no time to solve the mysterious arm cry, I buckled him up and scrambled to beat the clock.

When we got home, I found the door from the garage to the house locked, and remembered Somebody nagging me to carry a key, which I hadn't gotten around to yet. The only key was with Kennedy, at school where we had just left. Now grateful for having thrown shoes into the car, I drove back, walked in wet hair and all, and grimaced as the receptionist announced over the intercom, "would Kennedy please bring her house key to the front desk for her mom".

And Wally was still crying.

I went to make Stevie's lunch, and found grain moths rampant in the pantry.


And Wally was still crying.

I went about my day, running errands and doing whatever it is I do that sucks time, talent and energy and leaves nothing but crumbs to show for it.

And though Wally had taken a break from crying he was not using his arm.

I picked up Ellie from dance that evening.

And Wally had returned to crying.

Sensing a bad night ahead, we went to urgent care for 2.5 hours of being trapped with all 4 kids in one room, where the nurse felt so bad for me she brought my kids popsicles, crackers and juice boxes and me a Diet Coke.

From quilt and cast

And Wally was still crying.

We left at 8:30, still no dinner, to run to Michael's for the supplies to finish the science project, then got dinner at a drive through.


And Wally was still crying.

Pretty much that night, Wally was still crying.
He couldn't get comfortable in bed, so I finally resigned myself to the fate of the two of us spending the night in the big leather chair. Fall is a fleeting flirt in the South, the sun warms the days, but leaves cold nights. You don't know whether to run the AC or turn on the furnace, so you do neither. This night I was uncomfortably cool, so searching for something to keep us warm, I happened upon the quilt, the heirloom quilt.

I love heirlooms, but own very few. This quilt I begged off my mom, not because I knew some great history behind it, but because I was drawn to the retro vintage fabric in it. I learned it belonged to Grandma Nelson and was likely quilted by her mother, Grandma Johnson. I got it with the intention that it would keep me warm, not realizing it would also keep me company.

From quilt and cast

As I sat that night, drifting in and out of sleep as Wally whimpered in pain, I felt so alone. I was exhausted from a chaotic day, and now I couldn't even take respite with a few hours of sleep in my comfy bed alone, and it would be another day before help would arrive. It was 2am, there was no one to call to buoy me.

As I snuggled beneath the quilt with little Wally, I felt a strange but calm sense of strength and love exude from the stitches. I thought of my great grandmother I have never met but is revered as any woman could be in my family. I thought of her struggles, losing her husband with a house full of children in the Great Depression.

I thought of Grandma Nelson, a woman I never knew to say a bad word about anyone, a woman who found a contagious joy in every child she loved. I thought of my mom, as solid as a rock, who never sits down and never seems tired. I found strength in these women, in my heritage, and in the quilt. I felt their spirit and their love wrap around me through the quilt. And when morning came, I didn't want to fold it up and put it away.

I heard the most wonderful talk in my church's conference where a leader discussed how God sends us angels to comfort and help us, some living some not:

In the course of life all of us spend time in “dark and dreary” places, wildernesses, circumstances of sorrow or fear or discouragement....But I testify that angels are still sent to help us, even as they were sent to help Adam and Eve, to help the prophets, and indeed to help the Savior of the world Himself.

So to me, the cast reminds me of that night, and a small part of me will be sad to see it go, but my heirloom now has another story.

From quilt and cast