So I’m starting something new. I am writing inspirational quotes while I create. They will be posted on Thursday’s as short inspirational boosts. Let me know what you think.
I am not who I was. I am not yet who I will be. I am still becoming.
There was a time when I thought life had chapters with neat endings. School. Marriage. Raising children. Building a business. Retirement.
I know now that life doesn’t work that way.
We are constantly becoming.
Some seasons ask us to be brave. Others ask us to slow down. Some teach us to let go of who we thought we had to be so we can discover who we really are.
At sixty-five, I find myself beginning again—not because I have to, but because I still want to learn, create, wonder, and grow.
I don’t have everything figured out. I probably never will.
But perhaps that is the gift.
I am not finished.
I’m still curious. I’m still dreaming. I’m still creating.
Every year I have the exact same conversation with myself.
“They’re only little ornaments.” “It’ll take a weekend.” “I’ve got plenty of time.”
Cue hysterical laughter.
About six years ago, when Gary and I moved into Brunswick Forest, I thought it would be fun to introduce myself the only way I really know how, not only with cookies, not with a casserole nor not with one of those awkward, “Hi…we’re your new neighbors…” conversations where everyone pretends they aren’t peeking inside each other’s garage.
Nope.
I decided to say:
“Hi! I’m a quilter. I make things. Here’s a little taste of my passion. We’re so happy to be your neighbors.”
It started with just a few new friends and neighbors.Then I made them for my new pickleball friends. Then for everyone on our street. Well…apparently everyone kept moving to Brunswick Forest. What started as maybe 40 or 50 ornaments has quietly snowballed into well over 125 neighbors, plus another 25 or so close friends. Let’s just say my little neighborhood gift has become less of a craft project and more of a seasonal production facility.
Every year I design a brand-new North Carolina-inspired postage stamp. The first year was the state of North Carolina itself. After all, most of us are transplants who came here searching for sunshine, warm winters, lower taxes…and grandchildren who still think we’re cool.
Since then I’ve designed places like Wilmington, the Biltmore, Cape Hatteras, and this year’s ornament celebrates our hometown—Leland.
People always ask how I make them.
Well…
First I design the artwork digitally on my iPad and computer.
Then I print it on fabric.
Fuse it to 1/4”foam.
Fuse coordinating fabric to the back.
Trim every ornament to exactly 2” × 3”.
Punch every hole.
Thread every ribbon.
Write every greeting.
Package every ornament.
And finally…
I transform into the Neighborhood Ornament Ninja…quietly taping them to front doors one by one before Christmas. If you’ve ever wondered why you occasionally hear rustling in the bushes in December… It’s probably just me.
This year’s ornaments were actually finished…sort of. The artwork was designed.The fabric was printed. The supplies were ready. Unfortunately…The artist was temporarily out of order. This year was a hard one for me. My motivation packed its bags, my creativity hid under the bed, and every time I walked past those unfinished ornaments they whispered,
“Soooo…you gonna finish us?”
Nothing like being guilt-tripped by inanimate objects. For months they sat there. Waiting. Judging me. Then something unexpected happened. Last week I sat down, turned on some music, picked one up…and started making them again. No fireworks.No magical creative fairy. Just one ornament. Then another. Then another.Today they’re about 70% finished. Which means if you happen to find a Christmas ornament hanging on your door in the middle of July…
Please don’t call the HOA.
It’s just me.
Running approximately seven months behind. I’ve decided these ornaments were never really about Christmas anyway. They’re about friendship. Community. Kindness. And letting people know someone thought about them. Turns out those things don’t have an expiration date.
So here’s my challenge to you.
What’s chasing you?
What unfinished project keeps following you around, whispering, “Hey…remember me?”
Maybe it’s a quilt. A painting. A letter. A closet. A garden. Or maybe it’s something only you know about. Whatever it is…pick it up. Don’t worry about finishing it today.
Just start.
One ribbon. One stitch. One brushstroke.One tiny step. I can’t tell you how much lighter I felt after finally sitting down and making these little ornaments again. Sometimes finishing something isn’t about checking it off a list. It’s about reclaiming a little piece of yourself.
And here’s something else I’ve learned…
Making something for someone else has a funny way of healing the maker, too.
The gift may hang on their Christmas tree…but the joy stays with you.
Now, if you’ll excuse me… I have about fifty ribbons to thread before I start convincing myself that next year’s ornaments “won’t take long.”
P.S.Many of you have asked about Gary. I’m happy to report he’s almost completely recovered from his surprise gallbladder ambush. Recovery has taken a whole lot longer than either of us expected. Apparently that’s one of the less glamorous perks of getting older and grayer! The good news is he’s doing great, I’m feeling more like myself again, and around here we’ll happily take progress over perfection any day.
P.S. Also …. thank you so much for your wonderful comments! Please keep them coming and share my blog with anyone who you think it might inspire!
In 2003–2004, I found myself lying in a hospital bed at Johns Hopkins fighting non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. More than a year of chemotherapy, total body radiation, endless tests, fear, and a painfully slow recovery changed me forever. Before that, I thought I understood what it meant to be sick. I didn’t. That experience stripped life down to its essentials.
One afternoon I was lying in bed watching Oprah. As she often did, she said, “Live your best life.” I remember thinking, If I ever recover enough to walk to the bathroom by myself again…if I ever get to eat real food again…I am going to do exactly that.
At the time, “living my best life” didn’t mean fame, money, or accomplishments.
It meant doing what moved my soul without restriction.
It meant being authentic.
It meant simply being me.
During that season I also discovered The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz. Those simple ideas quietly became a compass for the next twenty-two years. I try to live a B.A.D.D. life…
1. Be impeccable with your word. Speak honestly and kindly—to others and to yourself. Words have power, so choose them carefully.
2. Always do your best. Your best changes from day to day, and that’s okay. Give the best you have today, then let it be enough.
3. Don’t make assumptions. Most misunderstandings happen because we fill in the blanks with stories that aren’t true. Ask questions instead.
4. Don’t take anything personally. Other people’s opinions, moods, and actions usually say more about them than they do about you. Protect your peace.
I’ve genuinely tried to live by those principles ever since.
Now here we are in 2026
Brooks is independent, successful, and owned his own home before he was thirty. Austin became an M.D. and Ph.D., married Tommy, and they’ve built a wonderful life together in Chicago. And my baby, Cole, is thriving in New York City with Nicole as they build a future together in their home.
Raising three boys was exhausting, chaotic, expensive, hilarious, and one of the greatest adventures of my life.
Gary and I did it.
And we couldn’t be prouder.
Professionally, Zebra Patterns grew into something I never could have imagined. Thousands of patterns, books, teaching, travel, friendships, and becoming known around the world as a quilt designer. What an incredible ride.
But if I’m honest, that isn’t what I’m proudest of.
The greatest work I’ve ever done wasn’t building a business.
It was building myself.
Somewhere along the journey I began asking bigger questions about purpose, creativity, aging, and what it really means to live an authentic life.
And finally…
At sixty-five…
I think I’m beginning to understand.
I don’t want to become someone else anymore.
I simply want to become Debra.
An artist.
A creator.
A curious soul.
Someone who makes beautiful things because she can’t imagine not making them.
It has taken every single day since that hospital room in 2004 to finally feel something I wasn’t even sure existed.
Home.
Not a place.
A feeling.
A quiet sense that I have finally arrived where I was always headed.
The road here wasn’t smooth. There were seasons of depression, uncertainty, self-doubt, fear, illness, and more tears than anyone ever saw.
But today…
Today I wake up excited.
Curious.
Full of anticipation.
It almost feels like graduating from high school all over again—except this time I actually know who I am.
Instead of racing toward the future, I want to walk through it slowly.
I want to notice things.
Create more.
Learn new mediums.
Laugh more.
Travel.
Make art that feels like my soul spilled onto paper.
Encourage people I may never even meet.
I’ve spent decades seeking.
Now I get to explore.
What a gift.
So Happy Birthday, Debra.
Thank you for not giving up.
Thank you for surviving long enough to meet the woman you were becoming.
And if sixty-five is the beginning instead of the ending…
Well…
That might just be the best surprise of all.
With gratitude, excitement, a little gray hair, and absolutely no desire to act my age…
Here in North Carolina we’ve been baking for over a week with temperatures in the mid-90s, and now the forecast is threatening us with 100° days. I don’t know about you, but when it’s so hot the birds are walking instead of flying…it’s HOT!
Now don’t get me wrong. I’d choose summer over winter any day. I like sunshine, flowers, flip-flops, and dinner on the porch. But once it gets this hot, even my enthusiasm starts to melt.
This is definitely two-shower-a-day weather. Go play nine holes of golf? Shower. Pickleball with friends? Shower. Walk to the mailbox? You might as well shower.
Even my ironing board is looking at me saying, “Not today!” So instead of dripping all over the driveway, I’m voting for staying inside where the air conditioning is working overtime and the sewing machine is humming happily.
One of my favorite “beat the heat” projects is our Laundry Door Hanger. Around here we call it Jackie’s Laundry, because my wonderful friend Jackie Bingham, owner of Patches Quilts in Mt. Airy, Maryland, deserves all the credit for the idea.
Years ago I walked into her shop wearing a cute sweater with a clothesline across the front. Jackie took one look and said, “Deb…that needs to be a quilt!”
Well, you don’t have to tell me twice!
Before long the pattern was finished, complete with the cutest little wooden clothespins that are included with the pattern. They’re the perfect finishing touch and always make people smile. Let’s face it…the laundry isn’t going away. We might as well decorate the door!
So grab a friend, turn the A/C down just one more notch, pour yourself a giant glass of sweet tea (or Diet Coke if you’re like me), and spend the afternoon stitching instead of sweating.
The laundry can wait… …well…at least until the quilt is finished! Stay cool, my quilting friends! — Debra
Last week reminded us just how quickly life can change. One minute we were making plans and enjoying time with family, and the next we found ourselves facing surgery, hospital rooms, uncertainty, and long nights. It has been a week we will never forget.
Today, we are finally home. Gary is healing one day at a time, and every little victory feels enormous. Things that most people take for granted suddenly become milestones, and we have learned to celebrate each step forward.
More than anything, this experience has shown us how blessed we are by the people in our lives. The prayers, texts, phone calls, messages, and encouragement have carried us through one of the most stressful weeks we’ve faced. We are deeply grateful for every single one of you.
A special thank you goes to our three sons.
Cole, thank you for stocking our house with food before we came home and for sending so many health and comfort gifts. Walking into a home that was already prepared for recovery was an incredible act of love and generosity.
Austin, thank you for being our behind-the-scenes doctor, consultant, and constant of wisdom. Having your knowledge and calm guidance gave us confidence and reassurance during moments when we needed it most.
Brooks, thank you for making the Walmart run and bringing dinner. Those thoughtful acts of kindness made our transition home so much easier and reminded us that love is often shown in simple, practical ways.
This experience has given us a lot to think about. As we get older, we realize that life can change in an instant. Plans can disappear overnight, and suddenly the things that matter most are family, health, friendship, and faith. We have been humbled by the kindness surrounding us and reminded that none of us walks through difficult seasons alone. From the bottom of our hearts, thank you for helping carry us through this week. We will never forget it.
Finally, to our wonderful customers, thank you for your patience and understanding during this unexpected interruption. Family had to come first this past week, and as a result some orders have been delayed. Your kindness and support mean more to us than you know. Tomorrow we begin catching up and getting orders back out the door, and we are grateful for the grace you’ve shown us during this challenging time. We truly have the best customers anyone could ask for.
Last week we were in New York City visiting Cole and Nicole, helping with handyman chores, walking the streets, enjoying great food, laughing, and making memories. Life felt normal. Plans were full. Summer seemed wide open.
Then Saturday, Gary started feeling a little “punky.” Nothing dramatic—just not quite himself. By Sunday he was sick. We flew home Monday, thinking he’d probably need a little rest.
Instead, Monday night found us sitting in the emergency room.
After tests, scans, blood work, and a very long night, the diagnosis was a gallbladder attack with inflammation. As I write this, we’re sitting in a hospital room waiting for an operating room to become available this afternoon.
Amazing how quickly life can change.
One minute you’re planning what restaurant to try in Manhattan. The next you’re discussing IVs, antibiotics, surgeons, and operating schedules.
It’s a reminder that none of us knows what tomorrow—or even tonight—will bring.
I’ve always been a planner. I love calendars, projects, deadlines, and checking things off the list. But life has a funny way of laughing at our carefully organized plans. Sometimes it simply says, “Not today.”
So maybe the lesson is to enjoy the ordinary days a little more. Take the trip. Eat the dessert (or at least smell it if you’re diabetic like me!). Call your kids. Laugh at silly jokes. Don’t postpone happiness waiting for the perfect time.
Because you never know.
And yes…getting older has its challenges. Parts wear out. New doctors appear on speed dial. Medical terms suddenly become part of everyday conversation. It definitely isn’t for the faint of heart.
But it also reminds us how grateful we are—for good medical care, for family who worries, for friends who check in, and for another day together.
So today, our plans consist of waiting for surgery and hoping for a quick recovery. The sightseeing has been replaced by hospital hallways.
We’ve been to Chicago twice before, but those visits were mostly spent helping the boys get settled into their home and busy lives. This time was different. For starters… it was actually ABOVE ZERO! The last few trips were so cold I thought my eyelashes might freeze together. This trip felt like an entirely new city.
