Once upon a time, there was born a little blue-eyed brown-haired girl.
With the most darlin’ smile that you ever did see
She had her momma’s eyes and her very own strong will.
she grew up fast and stole her momma’s heart and her momma’s MAC mascara.

then she moved away and waves of pain crash broken.
Broken. into.

And blue.

So her momma lost her way.
And took her grieving to the rail and to the needles
and prayed to sew healing in every stitch, wishing hands to lead the way, and wine to show Him true.

It would not be rushed.
Healing always takes its own sweet time.
And the soul would hardly seem to mend.
There were so many stitches to go. Endless rows of mended heartache.
And those loops in blue were no accident.

Like reflections in the cup.

Like water washing clean.
They tell a story all their own.

How we labor so diligently for days and weeks and years,

and wonder if it matters at all?

Will it ever be more than a heap of yarn?  Will food and laundry nourish a life?  Can bread be His body broken?

And finally, mercy gives way.

Heartache becomes forgiveness.

Stubborn melts to grace.

Tangles of yarn slowly take form of a sweater.

Years of meals nourish a body like years of love nourish a heart.

Redemption rushes in and finishes the work.

And it did matter.

Every little stitch.   All the countless hours.

Every kindness.    Even every tear.

Hoping, begging, praying that she knows—-

just how very much she matters.

And that she will feel in the blue-—- the warmth of  a mother who loves from the broken place

and the peace of a  Father who forgives.

Happy 18th Birthday sweet Caiti.  I pray you’ll find joy in the best things.   {and fyi: all the best things are broken}

and maybe i’ll have the sweater done by Christmas.

you can’t rush these things, or so I’m told!

from Madeleine L’Engle’s  Walking on Water, reflections of faith and art via heaven and nature sing

It is chastening to realize that those who have no physical  flaw, who move through life in step with their peers, who are bright and beautiful, seldom become artists.  The unending paradox is that we do learn through pain.   The world tempts us to draw back, tempts us to to believe we will not have to take this test.  We are tempted to try to avoid not only our suffering but also that of our fellow human beings, the suffering of the world, which is part of our own suffering. The artist cannot hold back; it is impossible, because writing, or any other discipline of art involves participation in suffering, in the ills and the occasional stabbing joys that come from being part of the human drama.

I am sharing these words with my friend Emily at Chatting at the Sky.  Her blog is beautiful as are her friends, who all gather to tell their gratitude stories on Tuesdays.

43 comments on “Stitched in blue and broken for you……”

  1. I have an 18 year old also. Your daughter is beautiful! I feel your pain as my 18 yo is my baby. Such a ‘struggle’ going on of am I grown yet? within her. This is the moment we spent all the years of diapers and tears for…watching them spread their wings.

  2. Happy Birhtday Caiti!

    Im still at the arms always aorund my neck stage that you have with your youngers….moving away, growing up, it sounds so far off and exciting and HARD 🙁

  3. Such a heartfelt precious post. Filled with hurt, redemption and grace. Those years are the hard years. The best is yet to come. When there comes a husband and then a baby or two, a gentle spirit is seen. A heart full of NEED for her mother and a forgiveness because now she *gets it*…and it will be worth all the tears. I promise.

  4. Such a beautiful post, Edie. I’ve knit my way through loss and heartache multiple times, and I’m sure when my daughters grow up and leave my nest, I’ll be doing the same.

  5. That post was soooo perfect. It spoke to me deeply. Your daughter is beautiful. I can’t imagine what I could give mine that would make my love known like that. What a wonderful idea…to wrap her with your hours of care…soft and blue.

    Oh and the words at the end…so true. I’ve had some trials this week that have made me think along those same lines. Pain is so hard, but it is what forms beauty I believe.

  6. i have a brown-haired, blue-eyed beautiful baby girl. she is 7 months old and i know all too well that 18 years will be here before i know it and i will be sending her out into the world. lots of tears will be shed for years i’m sure. my prayer is that she loves jesus and people and strives to do what is right and just.

    you have a beautiful daughter. many blessings to her and your family! and, i have a feeling that the sweater will be done before christmas 🙂

  7. How wonderfully said!

    I have lived this poem…recently. I have cryed these questions…and I am still waiting. I can “see” the hope of betterness, but it is still a bit off on the horizon.

    This will go into my favourites to read again and again…to remind me…

  8. 1. “Walking on Water” is one of my all-time favorite books. I rarely hear it mentioned, so I felt it necessary to actually SAY something today! My copy is worn and dog-eared and underlined. So many profoundly TRUE things in there to remember.

    2. Your daughter is beautiful… in her pictures she indeed seems to “have no physical flaw,” as the quote below it says. I have a daughter who is also physically beautiful (and doubly blessed with a sweet spirit… but this is not the thing that most teens her age value as of yet, is it?) — ah, but there is nothing in this world that would convince her of that. And this certainty of what is not true (in her mind) does cause unnecessary pain (in her life) at times.

    If words could convince, if I could say the right things and make her believe them, I would — but then I fear she would be ruined; because although as a parent I long to see her “strengthened, settled, established, and perfected,” I know as a Christian that God takes His time ON PURPOSE and He will accomplish all His holy will in His own way. He cannot be rushed, and He won’t allow me to ruin.

    Being a parent is such a ride, huh? 😉 It’s a sanctifying experience! It’s hard to “suffer” sanctification and maturation — and then watch our kids go through it again. Talk about reinventing the wheel! Each generation seems to have to do it all over again in some ways.

    But that’s how God works, and who am I to recommend a better way? lol…

    Beautifully said! Beautifully sewn.

  9. hi Edie,
    I have been reading your blog for awhile now. thank you for sharing this post to your sweet Caiti. it really sums up what I wish I could write so beautifully to my own daughter that will turn 20 on the 13th. it is so hard to raise a strong willed daughter. we have been praying through a good 3 years now. and just this week, I learn that she has made more bad choices, it breaks my heart.

    tks again Edie!

  10. This broken love stitched in blue has me in blubbering tears all over this morning. What a gorgeous girl you have there…shaped from the heart of a gorgeous mama. So glad you joined us on this Tuesday!

  11. I thought a lot about you and Caiti when my boys were in Utah for ten days. I can’t imagine how rough last years experience must have been. Broken is the perfect word for it I think, though I’m sure I haven’t a clue just how hard it was. Beautiful post and picture.

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