The Embroidered Cloth.

Poppies of Love.

I am reading a book just now about a lass from Scotland who started out life working in a big house with her mother as a seamstress. This young girl had such a love of nature she was later made to embroider flowers and such on the dresses of the wealthy of the household.

While reading I thought of another story that dwells in the far inner reaches of my mind from whence it came to be there I do not know but possibly one of the many told to me in my youth by my dear gran.

It was the story of a minister and his wife who had just been appointed to a new parish. On arrival he, like I did in all of the churches I was a minister, discovered that the fabric of the church was in a very poor state. Like me, he gathered some volunteers and set about putting right the things that need doing. He wanted all to be looking clean and fresh for his first Sunday.

The volunteers did well and on the Friday evening before he was due to preach he stayed late to put on the last of the paint. 

The next morning he went over to the church to check all was well. There had been a leak and a large part of the plaster behind the pulpit had fallen off leaving n ugly bare patch.

Realising he had not the time to do a repair he went and visited a second-hand shop.  here he found a beautifully embroidered sheet of fine linen just the correct size for the back of the pulpit. he purchased it and took it back to the church and hung it like a tapestry.

It looked well and many said it should be left. After the service, an old lady remained seated in the church. The minister approached her and she asked where he had got the tapestry. He told her where it had come from. She asked him to look at the bottom right-hand corner where he would find her signature. She recognised it as her work.

She told the tale of how during the war she and her husband had been separated him being arrested for refusing to fight. She fled the country leaving everything behind. The minister offered to return it to her but she was happy for it to stay there. SHe told him she and her husband had never seen each other again.

The minister drove her home.

About four weeks later an old man approached the minister asking about the tapestry. He told a similar tale to that of the old woman. The minister drove him to meet the old lady. he was part of a reunion of love that had happened because of a leak and some broken plaster. 

While walking this morning I met with a lady I speak with often. She said she had seen my snow scenes on my page.  She said," It is an ill wind that blows nobody any good."  Bad weather has given me much joy in the landscapes I have been blessed to see. 

It is so true that if we stop complaining about misfortune we will often see that there is some good to be found. 

Have a marvellous day.