Poema by Anne

If I had a mulligan, as they have in golf,
I would have not quit the viola in 5th grade (because I was really good and I got a standing ovation when I did a solo at a concert)
and I would not have scoffed at my mother
every time she tried to teach me how to sew,
because I really would like to find a boat necked, cap sleeved dress with a lace overlay (color: red) for less than $ 9,000.
Man, If only I had taken the time to tediously push & pull stiches -- a noiseless, patient skill.
However, as I sat in the sweltering box I call my Jeep Cherokee (AC-- blown-- not as in blowing); traffic creeping at horse and buggy pace, I found it hard to be grateful, but gosh!
I am not a world-famous musician and I can't sew a button on a coat
and I have a zillion regrets every day about my first year of teaching and about my last year of life,
and then I remember God is in the details-- gently, tediously, painstakingly sewing my life-- taking scraps from here, there, piecing them together, covering me with warm Grace, fresh Grace-- Grace just pulled off the clothes line, smelling of clean cotton and vibrant sun.
And finally, if I give Him the time and if I give Him the material, He constructs a quilt of many colors that give real life to my own feeble attempts at living--.