My children and grand dog just left to go back home after a beautiful week-long visit for the holidays. On a quiet day before Christmas, we all sat around and watched home movies of past Christmas times. While watching these, I got to thinking about how raising children is somewhat like making a quilt. For example, with a quilt, the quilter chooses the fabric. There must be some logic to the colors and patterns, otherwise the quilt will look disjointed. The fabric must carefully be cut into the right shapes and sizes, otherwise the quilt will have an odd shape. Sewing the quilt is the best part. Every seam must be exact, every block must be the same size. It’s as precise as performing surgery, (of course nobody’s life is at stake, otherwise I would have killed a few patients). Once the final touches are created, the outcome is spectacular. It is a work of art.
My children were raised with the same precision that goes into the making of a quilt. They were, (and still are), a gift from God. From the time they were born, I was their teacher, their mentor and their guide through the formative years of their lives. In much the same way my care goes into the making of a quilt, my care went into their upbringing. I chose outlets to enrich their hearts and minds. They were given many opportunities to shape their interests, which enabled them to be well-rounded. They were taught to be moral, good and kind, and they are. My final touches gave them the impetus to be independent free thinking individuals. I have never made a quilt as beautiful as my sons. They are my masterpieces.
Kwilting with a "K" 
This is forth best quilting blog I read on internet and I read all quilting blogs (so many blogs). I like so much. Keep up the great blog.
-Vladamir