A Pillow And A Blanket
Author: Unknown

A long time ago, a young, wealthy girl was getting ready for bed. She was saying her prayers when she heard a muffled crying coming through her window.

A little frightened, she went over to the window and leaned out. Another girl, who seemed to be about her age and homeless was standing in the alley by the rich girls house.

Her heart went out to the homeless girl, for it was the dead of winter, and the girl had no blanket, only old newspapers someone had thrown out.

The rich girl was suddenly struck with a brilliant idea. She called to the other girl and said, "You there, come to my front door, please."

The homeless girl was so startled she could only manage to nod.

As quick as her legs could take her, the young girl ran down the hall to her mothers closet, and picked out an old quilt and a beat up pillow.

She had to walk slower down to the front door as to not trip over the quilt which was hanging down, but she made it eventually. Dropping both the articles, she opened the door.

Standing there was the homeless girl, looking quite scared. The rich girl smiled warmly and handed both articles to the other girl. Her smile grew wider as she watched the true amazement and happiness alight upon the other girl's face. She went to bed incredibly satisfied.

In mid-morning the next day a knock came to the door. The rich girl flew to the door hoping that it was the other little girl there. She opened the large door and looked outside. It was the other little girl.

Her face looked happy, and she smiled. "I suppose you want these back."

The rich little girl opened her mouth to say that she could keep them when another idea popped into her head.

"No, I want them back."

The homeless girl's face fell. This was obviously not the answer she had hoped for. She reluctantly laid down the beat up things, and turned to leave when the rich girl yelled, "Wait! Stay right there."

She turned in time to see the rich girl running up the stairs and down a long corridor. Deciding whatever the rich little girl was doing wasn't worth waiting for she started to turn around and walk away.

As her foot hit the first step, she felt someone tap her on the shoulder, turning she saw the rich little girl, thrusting a new blanket and pillow at her.

"Have these." she said quietly.

These were her own personal belonging made of silk and down feathers.

As the two grew older they didn't see each other much, but they were never far from each other's minds.

One day, the Rich girl, who was now a Rich woman got a telephone call from someone. A lawyer, saying that she was requested to see him. When she arrived at the office, he told her what had happened.

Forty years ago, when she was nine years old, she had helped a little girl in need. That grew into a middle-class woman with a husband and two children. She had recently died and left something for her in her will.

"Though," the lawyer said, "it's the most peculiar thing. She left you a pillow and a blanket."

THE QUILT


As I faced my Maker at last judgement, I knelt before the Lord along with the other souls . Before each of us laid our lives, like the squares of a quilt. An angel sat before each of us sewing our quilt squares together into a tapestry that is our life.

But as my angel took each piece of cloth off the pile, I noticed how ragged and empty each of my squares was. They were filled with giant holes. Each square was labeled with a part of my life that had been difficult, the challenges and temptations I was faced with in everyday life. I saw hardships that I endured, which were the largest holes of all.

I glanced around me. Nobody else had such squares. Other than a tiny hole here and there, the other tapestries were filled with rich color and all the bright hues of worldly fortune. I gazed upon my own life and was disheartened. My angel was sewing the ragged pieces of cloth together, threadbare and empty like binding air.

Finally the time came when each life was to be displayed, held up to the light, the scrutiny of the truth ...The others rose, each in turn, holding up their tapestries. So filled their lives had been.

My angel looked upon me, and nodded for me to rise. My gaze dropped to the ground in shame. I hadn't had all the earthly fortunes. I had love in my life, and laughter. But there had also been trials of illness and death, and false accusations that took from me my world as I knew it.

I had to start over many times. I often struggled with the temptation to quit, only to somehow muster the strength to pick up and begin again. I had spent many lonely nights on my knees in prayer, asking for help and guidance in my life. I had often been held up to ridicule, which I endured painfully: each time offering it up to the Father in hopes that I would not melt within my skin beneath the judgemental gaze of those who unfairly judged me.

And now, I had to face the truth. My life was what it was, and I had to accept it for what it had been...I rose and slowly lifted the combined squares of my life to the light. An awe-filled gasp filled the air. I gazed around at the others who stared at me with eyes opened wide.

Then I looked upon the tapestry before me. Light flooded the many holes, creating an image, The Face of Christ. Then our Lord stood before me, with love and warmth in his eyes. He said: "Every time you gave over your life to me, it became my life, my hardships, and my struggles. Each point of light in your life is when you stepped aside and let me shine thru, until there was more of me than there was of you."


- AUTHOR UNKNOWN -

very touching, thank you for sharing.

Neat stories! Thanks for sharing!

There are some nice poems and readings here....

http://homepages.tesco.net/~derek.berger/quilt.html

This one is my favourite...I shared it once before on this forum but here it is again for anyone who didn't see it....

I Think God is a Quilter
(Author Unknowned)

I think God is a quilter
Who takes His needle and thread
To piece our world from nothingness
And give it form, instead.

I think God is a quilter
And everything I see
Are pieces from His careful hand
From tree to bumblebee.

I think we see God's stitches
His texture everywhere;
The velvet moss, the grainy sand,
The silky strands of hair.

I think God is a quilter;
Stitching tight and tiny rows,
Adding to my scraps and pieces,
Seaming everything He knows.

I think He cuts the patterns
From what I'd throw away.
He shows me how to use each scrap
In His redeeming way.

I think God quilts a pattern
From everything I live;
But He can only stitch the quilt
From what I choose to give.

I think God is a quilter
Stitching strength where I am weak.
Showing me that life He touches
Embraces everything I seek.

I think God is a quilter
From the patience in each thread;
Proving length of time no barrier;
Treating time a gift, instead.

I think quilts are lessons
God uses just to teach
That our pieces and our remnants
Have kaleidoscopic reach.

So, in the life I'm living
With pieces everywhere
I'll give them to the Quilter
To stitch with loving care.

I'll give them to the Quilter
Unwanted though they be
And with His work of quilting
He'll make a quilt of me.

Please pass the tissues!

Thanks lockeb for the gentle reminders.

We all need to remember to keep things simple, pass it forward, and to remember WHO is in charge.

There a website that I came across while browsing the web....some wonderful poems....
Here's the link:

http://myheartismypoet-sweetie.blogs...ember-you.html

wvdek...AMEN!!!! :-)

THE QUILT

Watch me as I stitch the cloth
Each patch a gift I give
Cradles you with all the warmth
For all the life you live

Each thread of life is special
The stitches strong will last
The love within my heart
Will share a sacred past

Watch me as I do this
So you can learn one day
To gather cloths of beauty
With memories to stay

Each story it will tell you
The softness you will feel
Every time you pick it up
Love's gentleness revealed

Then when I'm no longer here
Remember every stitch
Gathering the special times
Our love was so enriched

The pattern that I'm making
Love gathered so divine
Folded in your hope chest
My treasured love combined

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~ Author: Francine Pucillo©2001-2003 ~