Unfinished quilt tops. Loose fabric, pieced together. seams resewn to strengthen the final product. adjustments, another persons eye to style and color. A work in progress. I strive to save the lovingly hand stitched aspect of the quilt top while ensuring it won’t fall apart upon the first washing.Life lessons. Spools of thread. Simple things the second. Complex thoughts on the first. I was thinking about a sewing project I have been trying to find time to work on. I am finishing a quilt. I purchased an unfinished quilt top at auction and am working to finish. Just haven’t been able to make time to sit down and tackle it. Not to mention the stack of patching, hemming and repairs that are sitting in my sewing area. In thinking about the similarities between the spool of thread on my sewing machines, and David’s care I am struck by one thing.
Breaking our hearts to practice tough love with David. He called home for the first time since he was placed in detention. Full of tears, and a story about how he banished the bad version of himself. Breaking Hearts During the first hearing, he didn’t want to talk to us. During the second, he said hello. He isn’t happy there in the detention center. Nothing to do and in bed by 6pm. He claims they won’t let him read or do anything. And he can’t visit with peers. We can go visit him for an hour on Sunday. In order to visit, we have to give 24 hours notice. He told me that he wasn’t getting his medicine. I talked to the staff and they said he wasn’t in compliance. So tomorrow, I’ll find out what that means. Because he needs his medicine and will have all sorts of problems
It’s a sad reality. Our son David is mentally ill. I know it’s been a while since I last posted. So much has happened. On Feb 3, as I was driving into the city for a medical appointment, I received a call from the facility where David was. “If you don’t come and get him by 1pm, you will be charged with abandonment.” said the Clinical Director. I tried to explain that I was on my way to a medical appointment, 100 miles south of the facility. I explained that I had made arrangements to pick him up at 4pm. Not good enough. I was given the ultimatum, either pick up your son by 1pm, or be charged. As a result, I cancelled my appointment, turned around and went to pick him up. You see, he is well. Or so they believed. That’s why his peers want to kill him.