When I was in high school, I found some baby flannel in a bin in our basement. The squares were already cut, just asking to be sewn together into something snuggly. I decided to make a baby blanket.
I worked on this blanket for almost two years. After I sewed it up, layered it, tied it, and bound it, I decided to hand quilt it. Definitely not the recommended order to do these things. But that's how I did it.
Interestingly, during the time I worked on the blanket, my priorities changed. I went through a phase. I had always been a good kid. Like, a really good kid. I got along well with my parents, and adults in general. Polite, motivated, agreeable. Then I changed. There were a lot of catalysts for this change, which can pass unmentioned because they're irrelevant at the moment. Suffice it to say that by the time I started the hand stitching, I really didn't see myself ever having a life that included marriage or children, the temple or any sort of eternal perspective. That life, a life of restriction and small-mindedness as I then thought, did not appeal to me.
I'm glad I got turned around. To my parents' everlasting credit. Look what I wouldn't have now if my 16-year-old self had won out?