The Giving Quilt by Jennifer Chiaverini

requirement for graduation, and I thought this would be kinda cool. Also, most other community service jobs need you to be able to walk around a lot, and obviously that’s not an option for me right now. But that’s why I came here this week, not why I give. I guess I give because no matter how bad you think you have it”—she indicated her cast-bound leg with a gesture of humorous resignation—“there’s always someone else who’s worse off, you know? And at Quiltsgiving we get to help kids, sick in hospitals or burned out of their apartments or whatever. Who wouldn’t want to help a kid? If they need a quilt”—she shrugged, and her blond curls bounced—“then I should make them a quilt. I mean, in my case, it’s not like it would take time away from my marathon training.”
    â€œBut, dear,” asked a thin, silver-haired woman four decades her senior. “You’re so young. Do you even know how to quilt?”
    Almost imperceptibly, Michaela bristled. “Of course. My mom taught me. She’s like the most awesome quilter ever. She came to summer quilt camp here two years ago, and she heard about Quiltsgiving, and she told me.”
    The older woman didn’t seem reassured in the least. “You seem too young to be a quilter,” she murmured as Michaela passed the candle along.
    Karen Wise gave Michaela a sympathetic smile as she accepted the candle. “I give because I always have,” she said simply. “I can’t imagine not giving. My parents taught me to give and I want to set a good example of giving for my sons. I want them to know that giving is a joy, not a burden.”
    She passed the candle on to Jocelyn, who studied the candle for a long moment in silence before introducing herself, adding that she was a middle school history teacher from the outskirts of Detroit and the mother of two daughters. “I give because the need is so great,” she said. “And while it’s true that I could give on my own, closer to home, I think it’s often important to gather together so that our acts of giving may have an even greater impact. ‘Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.’”
    â€œMargaret Mead,” said Pauline from Sunset Ridge, Georgia, promptly.
    â€œYes, that’s right,” said Jocelyn, offering Pauline a small, thoughtful smile before passing on the candle.
    Around the circle went the flickering light, and each woman who held it shared her reasons for giving. Some were variations on what had been spoken before; others were wholly new or newly insightful. The sisters who had reunited in the foyer during registration were the last to speak, and when the younger of the pair took the candle, she confessed that she gave because people asked her to, and that she always felt like she ought to do more, or at least not need so much prompting to do it. “Mona’s too hard on herself,” said her elder sister, Linnea, when it was her turn to hold the candle. “She’s just as busy as the rest of us with work and family, and she fills every other available moment with volunteer activities. I can’t imagine how she could possibly do more unless she abandoned sleeping altogether.” Linnea fell silent for a moment, thinking. “I suppose I give to balance the scales in life. I’ve been richly blessed throughout my life, with a wonderful family”—she gave her sister a little nudge and a smile—“work I enjoy—”
    â€œMost days,” her sister broke in.
    â€œMost days,” Linnea agreed. “Good health, wonderful children, a loving husband, a roof over my head. I have it all, or at least I have everything that truly matters. I look around at the world—actually, I don’t even have to look much farther than my own neighborhood—and I