This is a guest post from my daughter, Charlotte. Growing up I never understood the thrill of needlepointing. My mom was, and still is, constantly needlepointing numerous trinkets for gifts, ornaments, and pillows. I never understood how a threaded object could be so meaningful or a perfect house decoration. However, as I got older, I began to see needlepoint in everyday life outside the house.

As a child, growing up in the Episcopal Church, I never ever noticed needlework in the church. When we would go up to the altar for communion, I never noticed the kneelers, and to this day, the church I grew up in (was baptized, confirmed, married in, and had youngest daughter baptized in) I still couldn’t tell you if they have needlepoint kneelers at the altar.