The Tailor's Shop


She looks through the window of the Tailor's shop, nervous and unsure of this idea. She sees the beautiful colors in the windows, the beautiful things already sewn together. She looks down at her pieces, what she has brought, hoping they too can be sewn back together. She know that these pieces will never be as beautiful as those things she sees in the window, but if he can at least put them back together...

She opens the door, the bell above signaling her entrance into the shop. A man at the counter turns, sees her there, and smiles. She sees kindness in his face.

"Can I help you?" he asks.

She looks around, self conscious, nervous, worried that this is a mistake. Then, she holds out the pieces she has, the frayed, worn pieces of fabric, that she wants sewn back together. Some of them are even a little dirty from years of wear and tear.

"I-I was wondering if the Tailor could sew these back together?" she asks, timidly.

He nods and beckons her to come closer, holding his hand out to take the pieces she has in her hand. She drops all the pieces into his cupped hands, still nervous and unsure. It is hard for her to let these pieces of fabric go into someone else's hands. They represent memories for her, a lifetime of memories. Some bring joy, others bring sorrow, but they are all hers...all her pieces of fabric. She watches as the man studies the pieces, running his hands over them, holding them up to examine them. He looks at her, then, after a few moments.

"These pieces are important to you, yes?" he asks softly, expecting her answer.

She nods, looking down at the floor. "They represent many memories for me," she whispers. She watches then, as he pulls out a beautiful, purple velvet box, and places all her fabric in it.

"The Tailor can fix this." he says with a gentle smile.

She exhales relief. "Thank you, sir! I've heard of this Tailor and his perfect work with fabric and I was hoping he could help me." She says in a rush, now feeling hopeful that someone can help her, that someone can put the pieces back together.

The man at the counter, he smiles again. "He takes great care in everything he does." He looks at her a moment, as if thinking something, then speaks again. "Come back tomorrow. It will be ready then." He smiles again.

She hesitates at the thought of leaving her most treasured possession in the hands of this Tailor. Will he sew the pieces back together correctly? "Thank you, sir! I've heard of this Tailor and his perfect work with fabric and I was hoping he could help me." She is unsure, but desperation wins out and so she nods. "I will come back tomorrow," she says softly, and with that she quietly leaves the shop.

The man at the counter, he goes behind the curtain, into the Tailor's workshop, with the velvet box in hand. He sees the Tailor, hunched over his work table, sweat beading his brow as he works intently with a needle and thread, sewing someone else's pieces of fabric back together. He looks up and a smile lights up his bearded jaw.

"What have you for me today, son?"

"Another box of torn pieces to be sewn back together, Father." the man answers.

"Ah," the Tailor says, and a look of sorrow briefly passes over his face. Then, he smiles. "Frayed and torn pieces are my favorite to work with." 

"I know," the son says, softly. "Mine, too." He gently places the box on the table and runs his hand over its velvety surface. "She will be back tomorrow." He leaves the box there, on his Father's work table and returns to his place in the front of the store.

 The next day, she returns, anxious, hopeful, scared. Did the Tailor sew the pieces back together correctly? Did he leave any out? She is fearful, but hopeful because she has heard of his beautiful work with fabric. Surely he knew what he was doing with her fabric. She comes upon the shop, and enters, hearing the bell again signaling her entrance. The man at the counter looks up, and his face lights up with a smile as he recognizes her.

She smiles back. "Hello, sir. I've come back for my fabric." She hesitates to ask, but she can't help herself. "Did the Tailor sew the pieces back together?" She hears the plea in her own voice. The man pulls out the same velvet box from under the counter that he put her fabric in yesterday. He pushes it forward on the counter and she walks up to it, timidly touching its purple top. She notices something she didn't see yesterday. Stitched into the surface of the velvet is a simple outline of a cross. It is made of gold thread, and she runs her finger over it, captivated by its beauty.

"This box is beautiful, sir." she looks up into his eyes. "Where did you get it?" 

He looks at the box intently, and she thinks she sees tears in his eyes."It was a gift from my Father," the man says softly, looking down at the box as he speaks, running his hand over its surface. She unlatches the box then, and exhales as she opens the top. What she sees there is beyond what she could have imagined. She doesn't move for a moment, overwhelmed by what is before her. She looks up at the man behind the counter, tears forming in her eyes. "How did he do that?" she asks, amazed, for even though she brought many pieces of fabric, some frayed and worn, there is not a single seam to be seen. Only the different pieces, all blended together, as if they had always been like that, always been many pieces making one whole piece.

"He is the best Tailor there is." the man says to her.

She reaches for her coin purse, rummaging for the coins to pay, then sees the man's hand gently rest on her arm and she looks up into his face.

"No charge." he says gently.

"No charge? But, why? I must pay for this. It is more than I could have ever asked for." Tears are running down her cheeks now.

"It is a gift, from the Tailor," he says.

She pulls the fabric from the box, clutching it close, overwhelmed by the generosity of the Tailor. "Please, thank the Tailor for his generosity. Please tell him this is more than I could have ever asked for!" 

"He knows." the man responds, with a nod and gentle smile. "He knows." 

She leaves the shop then, hearing the bell over the door echoing behind her, clutching her beautiful, perfectly sewn, pieces of fabric, close to her heart. The Tailor, he took the frayed, worn, ripped pieces of her fabric, and he made them beautiful again...

He made them beautiful.


"He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." Psalms 147:3

Comments

Popular Posts