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My mending basket sits on a bottom shelf near the washer and dryer. As I’m sorting laundry, I often find shirts with missing buttons, pants with ripped seams, and sweaters with holes. Into the basket they go, awaiting the day of their promised mending.

This weekend I spent some time with the neglected garments in the mending basket. I sewed on buttons. I darned holes. I let out hems. I stitched seams. And it was immensely satisfying.

There is something within me, within all of us, that longs for restoration.

I am always hungry for analogy, searching for concrete metaphors that provide handles to help me carry around abstract thoughts. My mind leaps into this one with the joy of a toddler in a rain puddle.

I watch my hands transform this stack of tired rags, redeem them into purposeful garments, and I am reminded of how God does the same for me.

Praise the Lord! He replaces my missing buttons!

Hallelujah! He repairs my torn seams!

Glory be! He restores my moth-eaten holes!

What a mercy and a privilege to be lifted from a heap of rags and held and transformed by His loving hands. The prick of the needle may sting, and the pull of the thread may chafe, but His restoration is sure and His redemption beautiful.

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