The Tailor

    A worn piece of fabric lay across a table, looking old and defeated. A tailor stood over it and looked at the damage done over the years. Tears marred the once beautiful material and the edges frayed, leaving gaping wounds. The Tailor carefully unfolded the fabric, finding more damage, but also some strong areas, almost untouched. His companion also took a look at the fabric, laid out to see all the rips, tears, and frayed lines. "It cannot be used again." He said, and turned back to the newer, untouched fabrics.

  The Tailor looked again at the fabric before silently choosing a needle and threading it. He sat down in front of the fabric and examined a fraying edge. He carefully set the first stitch. Rolling the edge to give it strength he worked with the fabric. Hesitantly the fabric yielded to him. It relaxed under his hand, feeling new strength come. The Tailor finished the edge and carefully laid the fabric down and turned to another project. 

  The next day the Tailor entered the room, to sew the fabric that patiently waited for him. The Tailor sat down at the table and picked up a needle, preparing to start again. "Why do you waste your time with that? I can never become something beautiful." His companion said. 

  "It is beautiful, it merely needs a little guidance." The Tailor replied. He threaded the needle and found a tear to fix. Long hours he worked, stopping occasionally to rest tired fingers or a stiff neck. Before patiently taking the needle up again. Often the Tailor had to leave and take care of other projects, leaving the fabric for other fabrics.

  Again and again the Tailor looked at the fabric, only to leave and work on another project. Weeks passed and the Tailor worked, saving the old fabric for another day, too tired to lift a needle. 

  Finally, one bright morning the Tailor looked at the fabric, patiently waiting for him still. He pushed other projects away. He would make the fabric strong again. Choosing a needle, he sat down, found thread and started working. Stitch after stitch the fabric was restored, or mended so it would not fall apart again.

  Day after long day the Tailor worked faithfully for as long as he could before moving on. Other needs came and the fabric would wait for a little while longer. Weeks when by and the Tailor prepared for his move to a new place. Silently, he looked at the fabric, a feeling of sorrow for the long toiling hours of work on the cloth. He said farewell and left the fabric for the new Tailor to come.
  
  After that day many tailors looked at the fabric, but left it alone. Some would stop and look a while before deeming it unworthy of attention. Quietly the fabric waited for one to look at it and see its worth. Tailor after tailor they flew by, slowly the fabric lost hope.

  After several long years the fabric lay limp on the table. A tailor came in, followed by a young boy. The boy followed the tailor around, seeing the rich, new fabric, learning the quality. The tailor got started with a project, ignoring the old fabric. The boy passed the fabric and then looked back. The old fabric had many places that had been lovingly fixed, but age and moths had done more damage. "Father, what about this?" 

  the tailor looked up and spying the fabric they boy cautiously touched he grunted, "do whatever with it, it's useless to me." The boy looked shocked, but again focused on the fabric. The tiny stitches where it had been repaired showed that someone had loved it enough to try to restore its former beauty. The boy gazed at the fabric a moment longer. Decided he grabbed a needle and clumsily threaded it. He set the first stitch and pulled the thread through, completely. Again he tried with the same result. Confused, the boy looked to his father, quietly he watched. Finally realizing that he needed to knot the end of the thread.

  Slowly he started to repair the fabric. His stitched were ugly and slipped at first, and the fabric refused to work willingly with him. Hour by hour the boy struggled to fix or prevent damage. Day after day his father saw the boy wasting time on the fabric. If the boy was busy then that was enough.

  After hours of hard labor the boy would sit back and examine the work done. He could measure his progress by the quality of the stitches, first they were ugly and poorly formed. As he got better the stitches shrank and became strong. Now the fabric yielded to him, accepting his love for it.  

  As the boy grew his father gradually pushed more work to him. Before too long the boy became the Tailor. Often busy for days before he could see to the fabric agian. But each time he went back, his love for the fabric showed. Often working into the night he helped the fabric piece itself together, becoming something new. Slowly he lovingly changed the fabric into a quilt, spiraling and mixing with wonderful colors. 

 It was different than his usual line of work with fabric, but it had needed more than itself to feel whole. So, with strong ties and bindings to other fabrics the old and forgotten fabric had become a beautiful quilt, love holding it strong. 

 Gently, he placed the finished quilt on the table and he glowed. Long years had the fabric come before it could again feel the love of others and shine. 

  The next morning an older Gentleman entered the Tailor's store. He looked at all the clothes made with fine fabrics and bright colors. He passed all of these and found the Tailor finishing off a simple, but serviceable coat for a young boy. "Tailor, where hast thy love gone?"

  "Love? Sir, the love is in my work." The Tailor replied.
  
  "That is good, and where is thy work?" The Gentleman asked. The Tailor was confused for a moment, but showed the Gentleman to the back room, where the quilt lay, folded and taken care of. "Ah, yes, here is thy love. Thou hast done well, Tailor. This that has been repaired and remade into beauty shows thy love." The Gentleman lifted the quilt. "This I will take, other fabrics you have yet to see to. Like the Tailor before that also saw the beauty others could not." The Gentleman walked away, holding the quilt close. 

  Sadly, the Tailor watched it go. He turned back to the table to see another piece of fabric, old and worn out. With a sweet smile he threaded a needle and went to work. Looking around a corner a young boy watched.