blogs, social networks, and good old fashioned quilting bees

There's been a lot of talk lately in my online social circle (and I'm sure in many others) about blogs, the act of blogging, and their relationship to all of the other social networking options that have sprung up in the last few years. I've had some friends declare that blogging is dead and that everything is moving to Facebook/Twitter/Pinterest/Google+. Others (myself included) think that many of the really regular bloggers are doing so because they have a reason to - their book, their online shop, or simply the ads in their sidebar. The rest of us have largely dialed back our posting because time is taken up by other social networking. Some of us by a lot. Ahem. Others who still blog have resisted the pull of concentrated social networking sites and stick with what now seems a little old-fashioned - with their blogs and email. Sometimes I wish I had too. 

I got the text from a mutual friend. That she was losing the baby - her nearly-ready-to-be-born baby girl. I sat on the low wall in my back yard, in shock, and I cried. How can this possibly happen? 

Most of the women that I've become friends with through blogging make things. I make things (although I don't blog about them as much as I used to). I didn't have anyone local who did the things I did. Who loved the things I loved. I tiptoed into blogging by talking about knitting. Then, because life was about more than just knitting, I talked about more. About kids. About food. About starting to sew again. It gave me an identity that I had been lacking since I had stopped working. I commented on other people's blogs and they found their way back to me. Comment replies turned into long email exchanges and into friendships. We would meet when we were lucky enough to be in the same place at the same time. We found our way onto Facebook and Twitter and the email exchanges turned into group conversations about everything that was happening in our days. Our personas, carefully crafted through the words and photos on our blogs, were both reinforced and blown apart by the truths we shared in more immediate daily snippets about life.

Stronger friendship networks were formed around the conversations we've had on Facebook and Twitter. These friends are not my blog friends or my Facebook friends. They are my friends, plain and simple. They are the people that I call with a problem to solve or a funny story to share. If they can't all live in my neighborhood, then we can all live in our little corner of the online social networking world. It's not the same, but it works. It has to. I think that more immediate connection has been good for our friendships, but not so good for blogging itself. It's become harder to commit the time to it when there are so many other distractions. 

I called back. No more texting. We have to do something. What can we do? Nothing we can do is enough. We're not there to make food and hold hands and wipe tears. But I have to do something, or I won't know how to process this grief for our friend and her family. For one of our best friends. What about a quilt? I asked. Yes. A quilt. she replied. I called another friend. She too, had thought of the quilt.

Here's the thing about Twitter and Facebook. They reduced our desire to blog, unless we had other motivations for doing it, because they can be such a compelling time-suck and we all only have so much time. Blogging can sometimes seem like just too much. Too time consuming. Too self indulgent. After all, hasn't everyone already read about what we've done on Facebook? We already posted pictures there too, with Instagram and instant uploads from our phones. What's left to blog about if you're always present elsewhere online? Is there a point really? Does anyone have time to read what we write anymore? I often wonder about writing 600 or 900 words when 25 can do just fine. 

Emails, Twitter DMs, and Facebook messages went out. Phone calls were made. So many people had wanted a way to help. So many people love her. A quilt was planned. Yellow, aqua, grey, and red was the color scheme. Traditional blocks in a modern colorway, framed by white. A family quilt for them all. Something that could wrap them in our love for years to come. Generations, hopefully.

I don't know where blogging is going. Heck, I don't know where I'm going with this blog. I'm guilty of neglecting it for other ways of communicating. It may be that they are becoming marketing tools. Or, as the big social networks change and become less personal, more like marketing tools themselves, maybe we'll turn back to our blogs. Maybe we'll return to the place where our community formed and tell our stories more slowly again, with thought and editing and care. I'd like that. 

The timeline was moved up because she was coming here to get away with her husband. They were going to the beach to sit by the ocean and try to heal their hearts. We wanted her to bring it home with her. I brought my things to my mom's house and pieced the back. When I came home, the mailbox was filled. As I opened each envelope, I was overwhelmed by the love and care that went into each block and by the sweet notes and small gifts that came along with them. These are such good people, I thought. Late nights and early mornings were spent at the sewing machine, stitching together all of the love. Thinking about these wonderful friends. This post formed in my head as I sashed everyone's work.

 

 And here is where the stories merge. Where this small online community made a quilt for one of their own in her time of need. Blogging has brought us together; an old fashioned quilting bee can come from a group of women who have never all gathered in the same room. Because, while these friendships may have formed in the not-quite-real world of blogs and Facebook and Twitter, they are true friendships indeed. We are here for each other to celebrate our triumphs and joys, and to hold one another in grief and sorrow. 

I sat with her and watched the tears well up as she read the card. I watched her hands flutter as she unfolded the quilt, touching each block with wonder. She said "I can't believe you did this" and I replied "but you know us. It's what we do." From afar, we can wrap one of our own in the labor of our hands and she will know she is loved. Her daughters will snuggle in it and spill juice on it. The quilt will wipe away tears and warm little bodies on cold winter mornings. This is how we all came together. We make things. We started blogging about what we made because we were looking for something - for an identity or a showcase for our work or for a way to share our knowledge. We may not have known what we were looking for or what to expect when we found it. What we found was each other. It has been an incredible gift. 

We love you, friend. 

Quilt details:

Made for the Carleton family. Completed in September 2011.

62" wide by 74" long with 10" blocks. Fabrics mostly from individual stashes with added embroidery on some. Pieced back from the Denyse Schmidt Proverbial Quilt Pattern.

Quilted by Tillie Studio.

Made with love by Sarah Jackson, Jade Sims, Grace Snow, Erin Harris, Cathy Gaubert, Beki Lambert, Laura Capello, Lori Hanson, Alicia Alferman, Amy Harding, Michelle Needham, Emily Demsky, Sarah Brundage, Lisa Clarke, and Stacy Dinkel

presented with a original watercolor card by Heather Smith Jones

Photos, courtesy of Chris. 

Comments

[chris carleton]

xoxo
It's beautiful, Sarah. Your post and the quilt. Love to all.

[melissa]

good post, beautiful quilt. you're a good friend.

[jess]

Sarah, this is so wonderful.
This is why I love the blog community.
It really is a Community.
Such love and kindness abound everywhere you look.

[Meredith]

What a beautiful, beautiful post. I'm envious of the community you've found. It is real and true and wonderful

[JCasa]

each and every one of you are such an inspiration. the way your lives have intertwined when and how they have is so very beautiful, and the sisterhood that has developed among you - what a treasure.
thank you for sharing, sarah + chris. love to you both. xoxo

[Molly]

tears. seriously. you are awesome! love you!

[erin]

xo.
so happy to call you my friend.

[beki]

this post brought tears to my eyes. beautiful, just beautiful.

[liza]

This is absolutely beautiful...in every way. You're spot on about blogging but all those other networks will never fully fulfill those with true art and talent.

[Honora]

it turned out so beautifully - what a wonderful group of friends you are. I know it is going to bring love and comfort to the Carletons for many years to come. {hugs}

[sarah]

what a gift: the friendship, the circle, the support, the warmth, the deepest care & love.

thanks for sharing sarah, beautiful. xoxo

[oh, jenny mae]

this is it. this is why. but you know that. this is an amazing group of people you know, sarah. my love to chris, even though i don't know them.

[oh, jenny mae]

this is it. this is why. but you know that. this is an amazing group of people you know, sarah. my love to chris, even though i don't know them.

[oh, jenny mae]

oops. typepad had a hiccup

[Kelly]

that is a beautiful quilt. so lovely. wow.

[Grace]

I'm just getting to look at this post now. What you've written here is so perfect, Sarah. It's inspiring me to put myself 'out there' in the community more. All the other social media is great, but this quilt came about because of the blogging community, not because of Facebook and Twitter. And that's a beautiful thing. Maybe blogging is getting 'old-fashioned'. But who doesn't need a bit of old-fashionedness in their days?

The quilt is so breathtaking. Thank you for organizing this, for keeping it moving forward, for doing my math for me. You are a better friend than you will ever know. xoxoxo

[Sonya]

What a beautiful post. Losing a baby is such a tragic thing. I knit a friend a prayer shawl when she lost her baby and I can completely relate to the urge to make something, something to cover, protect, warm. I sincerely hope blogging isn't dead. I know what you mean about social media sites being a time suck and I also often feel like they're a strange composite of where all my worlds collide - real and virtual. That's what I like about blogging, it gave me my identity too. I was able to seek out people who shared the urge to create, recognized the importance, valued the skill. It was a shelter. Thank you for writing this post Sarah.

[Betsey]

gorgeous quilt. beautiful gesture for a friend. Pure awesomeness. Thanks for sharing.

[amelia studio]

Aw, your and Chris's posts are making me cry this morning. At least I already have the tissues out for this silly cold. :) Your take on blogging is spot on.

Thank you again for all the work you did on this quilt -- I'm honored to have been a part of it!

[Lisa Clarke]

Beautiful. The quilt, the sentiment, all of it.

I am not ready for Twitter or Facebook to replace blogging yet - I see them as a more instantaneous supplement to blogging, good for spur-of-the moment conversation, but not really enough on their own.

[Grammie]

Your post elevated an already profound act of comfort and communication. It was an honor.

[Heather]

What a beautiful gift. She is now truly surrounded by your hugs when she needs them. You are a good and wise friend. Thank you for being one of mine.

[emily]

So much love. So beautiful. I am awestruck.

[laura]

well said, friend.

[MissChris Hubs]

Sarah,

Words will never be able to express my gratitude to you and everyone else for the quilt. I am so glad that Chris has all of you in her life and to help us through this. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart.