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This poem was written after the death of a sister quilter.

Somewhere up in heaven’s realm,
a golden quilt frame stands,
and a host of quilting angels
sit with thimble and needle in hand.
Taking threads of rainbow hue,
they quilt a great design
where all their names are clearly sewn
in the woof and weave of time.
And there are several empty chairs
awaiting sister quilters
where you and I will someday sit
when through His gates we filter.
There’s a special guild in heaven
where membership is free,
where your dues were paid by Jesus
out of love for you and me.
Today another chair was filled
and the tapestry grew larger
as another name was sewn in place
and the quilt extended farther.
And when it’s time for you and I
to knock on heaven’s gate,
we’ll come with sewing kit in hand,
not wanting to be late.
We’ll be ready to join the Master’s guild,
in service to the Lord,
just waiting for our special key
to where His fabric is stored.
With new designs in mind for Him,
we’ll cut, and sew, and measure
to make His beautiful works of art
to add to heaven’s treasures.