Sylvia Loveland, our noble Vice President, shared her version of a familiar Christmas poem at our annual Christmas dinner. This is one you'll want to refer to often during this season! Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.
Twas the Night Before Christmas or A Procrastinator’s Lament
‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the land
Quilters were panicked, needles in hand.
The cookies were baked, the pies were too
But there was much quilting yet to do.
The children were sleeping, the projects mostly done.
I was getting ready to finish the last-minute one.
Away to the sewing room I flew like a flash,
Tore open the cabinet, and went through my stash.
The moon through the window, looked sadly at me
And I heard him whisper, “You won’t finish, you’ll see”
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
A kit I had forgotten; purchased last year.
A snowman wall hanging, all done up in blue
It was meant to be given to my dear Aunt Sue.
More rapid than a Janome on the speed of quite fast,
The snowman was appearing out of fabric at last.
I drew comfort from knowing I was not alone,
My fellow procrastinators: we all should have known.
Each year it surprises us, we think we have time,
But the UFO’s are still waiting, all in a line.
Some projects are simple, just finish a quillow,
Others not started, like a case for a pillow
One friend with a log cabin top of bright red
Alas, it will be next year before it finds a bed.
Another with tea towels appliqued with a bell,
They should have fringe too, but I’ll never tell.
No hope for those like me and others who tarry,
Next year at this time, we all know nothing will vary.
We’ll say to ourselves, “I’ll finish this soon,
Oh! How I wish I had started in June”
Now! Gammill, Now! Janome, Now! Juki and Pfaff,
When we finally catch up, Oh! How we’ll laugh.
So complete on time all those who prepare,
The rest of us will eventually get there.
And then in a twinkling, I heard a bell chime.
Oh dear! Oh mercy! Do I have enough time?
I caught a glimpse of that moon; on his face was a smirk.
But I threaded my needle and turned back to my work,
The morn was still dark as I finished the chore.
That silly old moon failed his prediction once more,
Quilters are special; their love knows no bounds,
Each one has their heart in work that astounds.
When you get a gift from a quilter, no matter it’s late
It might not be perfect with every seam straight.
But it comes with promise of love pure and simple,
Use it, abuse it, and don’t worry it’ll wrinkle.
‘Cause I know the secret, and I’ll share it with you,
You can share it with others, for I tell you true.
It comes to us clear, as it does every year
The joy of our Christmas is in holding dear.
Our friends and our loved ones, those far and those near
And those ones in heaven, tho’ that brings a tear.
So Happy Christmas to all, next year I’ll to do better,
I’ll forget the last minute project and just buy a sweater.