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The Patchwork Quilt Called Life

Date: November 23, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

When I was 12 years old, I was assigned to recite a poem about life. It was my first such recitation. And while I don’t know who wrote it, and after 33 years can’t remember all of it, I remember part of it went something like this:

“Life isn’t given us all of one piece, it’s more like a patchwork quilt,
Each hour and minute a patch to fit in, to the pattern that’s being built.

With some patches bright and some patches dark and some that seem ever so dull,
But if we were given to set some apart, we’d hardly know which to cull.”

The life concepts I gleaned from that poem were great for me to learn as a 12-year-old, and the older I’ve gotten and the longer I’ve lived (and the more challenges that have come to me) the more I’ve decided that if we’re wise, we’ll never abandon or give up on the quilting project of our life, but choose, instead, to keep quilting through all the patches. And we’ll be wiser yet, and a lot happier, if we choose to be grateful for all the pieces and patches of life: the bright, the dark, the good, the bad.

“It’s like this old patchwork quilt my momma used to have…Each piece on that quilt meant something. And some of those pieces were the [darn] ugliest things you’ve ever seen…But some of the pieces were so beautiful they almost hurt my eyes to look at when I was a kids…That’s the best you can hope for…That your life turns out like that patchwork quilt. That you can add some bright, sparkling pieces to the dirty, stained ones you have so far. That in the end, the bright patches might take up more space on your quilt than the dark ones.” (Brook McKinley, Shades of Gray)

 

The First 24 Hours

Date: October 23, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“The beauty, the poetry of the fear in their eyes. I didn’t mind going to jail for, what, five, six hours? It was absolutely worth it.” (Johnny Depp)

Jail. According to Hollwood, criminals get to make a phone call. But I never got one that day from the only criminal I’ve ever known: my ex-husband. He told me later, “I didn’t call anyone with my call. I couldn’t remember your number. I just froze.”

He sent a letter to my children and educated us about his new life and summed it up by saying, “Well, I finished my first 24 hours in jail and…I don’t recommend it!”

He had spent seven hours on a concrete bench waiting to go to the Evaluation Mod, a medium security block/area: a 7 x 12 room with a combination sink and toilet and two mats–for two men. The men were released from the cell three hours each day and could use the time to watch t.v. or shower.

“Locks reset every hour, so it is very loud. The first time I heard it I thought someone shot a gun. It goes on all night, 24/7. They don’t shut the lights off, so you sleep in the light.”

He was later moved to a minimum security Mod: one big room with 64 beds on one side, a large common area with two 24″ t.v.s (but the men have to purchase headphones to listen to the t.v.) Also in the room were six round stainless steel tables with attached metal stools, with a chess/checker board etched into the top (but the men have to purchase the game pieces.) Breakfast was served at 5 a.m., lunch at 11 a.m. and dinner at 5 p.m. Breakfast consisted of a hard boiled egg, “mystery meat” and a biscuit. Lunch was a piece of pastrami, a chunk of “smelly black bread,” a cookie and orange jello. Dinner was chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy and mixed vegetables.

He spent a lot of time describing his new life for one reason. “I want to make sure you guys know what can happen if you mess up and don’t take care of it. I don’t get to make many choices. I get to choose to eat or not to eat and when to shower. Everything else is chosen for me. I am all alone. In a cage.”

I have a new perspective on prison: “Stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage.”

I’ve seen for myself that life goes on, even on “the inside.” You simply have to choose to live it. Whatever you’re handed, wherever you are.

Anticipation

Date: October 5, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“The poetry is all in the anticipation…” (Mark Twain)

I arrived home from the life-changing date at Sundance to find my daughter waiting up for me. I’ll never forget where she was sitting, facing the front door to catch me right as I walked in, or the look of anticipation in her eyes.

“Well?” she asked. “Did anything exciting happen on your date tonight?” She had totally known. And she had never said a word.

I told her Bachelor #5 had proposed, I’d said yes, and she beamed her delight.

My oldest son got home late that night after work. He headed right to my bedroom, anticipation dancing in his eyes. With a huge grin, he asked me about my night. I cut right to the chase and told him I was getting married. He beamed, hugged me, said, “Congratulations,” told me how happy he was for me and how much he liked Bachelor #5.

I was blown away by their maturity. Who has teenagers that react to news like that the way mine did? (Like supportive adults?) I do. Through our entire unexpected life, my children have been supportive of everything I have had to do: return to the work force, move our family to a new state, drastically change our lifestyle and everything that goes with losing the only financial life we’ve ever known–and they’ve stepped up to help me do everything adults, or a spouse, would do as well. All without a complaint.

They have also been supportive of everything else I have attempted: they encouraged me to date, find a nice man and remarry. They told me I was going to get remarried, without a doubt, because I was a “catch”–even when I didn’t believe I was one. They tended their siblings so I could socialize. They were open-minded about the singles scene, manfriends, and especially about Bachelor #5 from the moment they met him. And they rejoiced with me in the miracle of finding the man who completes me (and our family.)

“…love…when it’s right, it’s the best thing in the world. When you’re in a relationship and it’s good, even if nothing else in your life is right, you feel like your whole world is complete.” (Keith Sweat)

I can relate to that. Although I’m still dealing with fallout, the consequences and some “messes” left to me by the events of 2009, MY world is complete. Unexpectedly so. And it IS the best thing in the world.