Reparation

When I was a little girl, the Barbie doll was incredibly popular.
I did have one…along with the clothes and the accessories.
It stayed in its case most of the time…unless one of my friends wanted to play.

I had other things I would rather do.
Ride my purple bike, play jump rope…especially double dutch…play school.

A friend, who lived on my street, enjoyed playing Barbie.
She was so creative…her mother and sister were creative, as well.
I remember there was a large loom in their house…where her sister weaved her own cloth.

When I would buy an outfit for my doll, she would make one.
It amazed me how someone could sew so beautifully.
Her doll clothes were far better than the store bought ones.

That ability was not something that could be taught.
It was a gift…and she had it!
She was also an amazing artist …her pictures far surpassing any other girls our age.

We were both left handed…and were in the same first grade class together.
We both noticed that our teacher was also left handed…and told her so.
She was impressed that we noticed.

I always wanted to learn how to sew…it was not something my mother could teach me.
In fact, except for this friend, I didn’t know anyone who could sew from scratch.
I always wished there had been someone to show me how.

After my mother died, most of the household chores became my job.
One morning, a button on my school uniform fell off.
I knew my mother had a sewing basket for small repairs.
I got it out of the closet…but didn’t know the first thing about sewing buttons.

I was smart…I could figure it out.
I got the right color thread…somehow threaded the needle…and began.
I looked at the other buttons and saw the crisscross pattern the thread made.
I sat down on the side of my bed, still in my robe, and proceeded to sew.

I did it!
The button was on…tight and secure.
I was ready to go to school.

I stood up and lifted the uniform off my lap.
My robe came with it.
Yes…I had sewed the button on my uniform…but I sewed the uniform to my robe!

All I could do was start over.
Next time was a success.

I still have my mother’s sewing basket.
It is a gentle reminder of giftedness.
Do not despise humble beginnings…I once read.
We are all called to different things…different ways to be creative for His Glory.

In that day I will restore David’s fallen tent. I will repair its broken places, restore its ruins, and build it as it used to be. (Amos 9:11)

There is so much repairing that needs to be done all around us.
Each of us can repair our little bit.
Pastors preach, doctors heal, teachers teach, writers write, parents love and guide.
We all have a part in the reparation.

You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail. Your people will rebuild the ancient ruins and will raise up the age-old foundations; you will be called Repairer of Broken Walls…(Isaiah 58:11,12)

Repairer of Broken Walls.
Repair what you can…in your own home, your own neighborhood, your own city.
We each have a job to do…and unique gifts with which to do it.
There are repairs that only you can do.

One day, our Lord Jesus is coming back.
He will make everything new.
He will restore all things.

Until then, we repair.
We stay faithful…doing our small reparations…until He comes.
May He find us faithfully doing just that.
Our repairs may simply be to remind the world of His beauty.
To show the world who He is…in the ordinary.

My friend went from Barbie clothes to beautiful fabric art that now hangs in galleries.
Exhibits of her work have been in New York, Philadelphia and other major cities.
I am so proud of her.
She has used the gift He gave her…and used it well!

We may not get any recognition at all for our gift.
Yet, we will receive the most wonderful praise of all…when we hear from His lips:
Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I put you in charge of many things. Come and share your Master’s happiness. (Matthew 25:21)

Our Lord Jesus notices our repairs…no matter how small.
They will delight Him.