Just A Thought – September 1, 2019
September 1, 2019
Just A Thought – September 2, 2019
September 2, 2019

Fall Is In The Air

Fall is definitely in the air and soon our trees laden with green leaves will transform into beautiful ‘fall’ colors. I remember our first fall here in the South. On the West Coast you don’t get to enjoy the beautiful fall colors of autumn so when the leaves changed colors, we took off for local mountains and gathered as many colorful leaves as we could. They made beautiful placemats we enjoyed for several months. Cooler temperatures should be just around the corner.

While you’re getting back into the swing of school starting and busy schedules, take time and enjoy Part 3 of The Fabric Of Dreams. Maybe you can identify with Carrie. Sometimes, dreams come true.

 

Bright sunshine broke through the windows, dancing on the table in Carrie’s kitchen the morning of the craft show. She woke and realized she hadn’t dreamt the horrible dream the night before. She took a deep breath and eased out of bed. Seeing the rays of sunshine on her kitchen table brought a smile to her face. There was something different about this day; she knew it.

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The Weaver gently placed his works of art in the back of his utility truck, and headed for the craft show. He hadn’t been eager to participate when he received the invitation, and it wasn’t until he had finished the last piece that he knew it was for someone who would be at the craft show. He wanted to help finish their dream with a message of hope.

Arriving at the craft show, he checked in with the attendant and found where his artist stall was located. It took nearly an hour for him to set up his tables, his poles where he would display his work. He heard whispers from nearby artists that the crowds were larger this year. The doors would open shortly. He was ready.

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Carrie had enjoyed sleeping in for a change, and she’d just finished her second cup of coffee. She didn’t want to wait in the long lines when the craft show opened. She spent her time reading the daily Bible passage and the newspaper before putting the finishing touches on her makeup and her hair. She hoped to find some creative ideas from the craft show that she could use with her class of students.

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People milled about each of the craft displays, pointing and talking about the works of art. The Weaver sat off to the side, observing the people that stopped and smiled at him. It was close to noon and he’d already sold several pieces which surprised him. In each case as the people looked at his pieces, they were always drawn back to one they particularly liked. He could always tell when the piece spoke to them, and every time they would ask how he knew that it was what they needed. He would just smile and then accept whatever payment they gave him, which was always more than he anticipated or would have asked for.

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Carrie hadn’t stood in the long lines out front and quickly entered the building. She read over the pamphlet giving the location of each artist. She took her time, strolling up and down the aisles looking at all the creative wares of these people. She had already found several small items she would enjoy giving as gifts, and even several ideas to use in teaching her class. She was excited with her finds and thought of leaving but turned down the next aisle and looked to her left. There. She saw it. She just stared, unable to do anything else. Others pushed by her on either side but she was glued to the floor. She blinked several times. Dare she go any closer?

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The Weaver glanced up and saw her. He knew something spoke to her from his work. She approached cautiously. Standing in front of his table her eyes were steadily fixed one particular piece. He waited, studying her carefully. Yes, the same image flashed through his mind as he’d seen before—the woman with the ragged edges and holes in her body. He thought he was seeing things as he watched her but the holes quickly disappeared the longer she studied his piece of art.

Slowly he stood. He knew this particular piece was for her. She didn’t move or speak for several minutes then she just pointed to it. He nodded. Her hand went to her mouth covering her lips.

“How did you know?” she whispered. “That’s exactly what I’ve been dreaming for many weeks.” Tears filled her eyes. “I would always wake up in the darkness,” she said shaking her head. More tears and then she pointed to where the bursts of color had stopped in her dream.

“But now I see the end of my dream, and I’m not in despair and darkness. There’s hope, there’s color—the flowers—there’s life yet ahead.”

THE END.

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