Her name was Esther and she worked magic with scraps of fabric. Bits of this and that destined for the landfill until placed in the gnarled, calloused hands of a woman whose face was lined with years of living. In Esther’s hands, no longer were they mismatched scraps of random used clothing. Oh no. She transformed remnants of clothing into works of art, a much needed source of warmth.
Esther was Pastor Gary’s mom and she quilted longer than many people live. Her world reached no farther than the grocery store, the church, and the occasional trips to the homes of her grown sons. Her home was simple and her face uncluttered with makeup or mascara.
Yet when her quilting frame came out and the marking pen went to work, her fingers flew with practiced ease between the fabric and threaded needle. Esther was a textile artist, but I’m sure she didn’t see it that way. In her way of thinking, she simply made something functional, something to meet a need. Yet to the outside observer, she created bits of eternity, transforming ordinary calicos and muslin into something breathtakingly beautiful. Watching her work, I found myself thinking of what a parable of God’s love her quilting provided.
We are bits of this and that. With our lives often fragmented and torn, we can feel like remnants. Yet this Master Quilter, this God of grace in whom nothing is wasted, pieces together the torn, the fragmented, the remnants.
In God’s hands, we are becoming beautiful, whole, and complete. The more fragmented the pieces of our lives, the more intricate the divine design becomes. And in the end, who knows what warmth, what comfort, our lives will have offered to others. In the Quilter’s hands nothing is wasted.
Lord, every day I give you the fragments and the pieces of my life, and trust the completion process to your divine design.
Grace upon grace,
Debra Klingsporn