I began as some bits of fabric, stuffing, maybe a few bits and bobs. With each day, I came together a bit more. My pattern being cut out as I was formed in the warm embrace of my mother's womb. Slowly being stitched around as I grew bigger and stronger. Pieces of stuffing being placed thoughtfully and carefully along the way.
The second I hit the harsh world outside my protection, I was torn. But no one saw. Eventually, it fixed itself. No needles required. A miracle. Secretly I've always wished for the scar.
Slowly, hair was stitched in. More definition added to my face and features. My mouth being ripped out over and over to switch between a smile and a frown.
As I got older, I acquired more rips. Those playing with me not as careful as they should have been. Some stuffing spouting wounds being stitched up better than others, leaving me looking a little ragged in places.
For some time, I thought no one wanted to play with me. Leaving me to wander alone through the woods. But then I came across a Man. He took me in and repaired the poorly sewn rips and tears. Helped me pick out some new clothes. Fixed my limp and sad looking hair. He told me I was beautiful and well crafted. Not anything I had heard before. I knew, in the deepest parts of me, that it was all because of what He did. Before He let me go back into the world, he stitched promises into my heart. Telling me that if upheld my end, all of them would be kept.
Filled with joy, I ran and skipped back into the woods and soon, fell down. Crumbling as I realized that I had tripped on a huge rock; one that I had always been warned about. Devastated, I assessed myself and found a new rip. One that was bigger than ever before. I heard the voice of the Man coming to me from the memories of when he stitched me up himself. Using that as a guide, I stitched myself up. It didn't look right. I wasn't doing it right. I was missing something. But, I didn't want to go back to Him so soon after I just left. He would never trust me to leave again. So I pressed on. Continually tripping over rocks and ripping open my poorly sewn wound over and over again. Finally, I couldn't do it anymore and I went back. I asked for His help and, gently, He scooped me up and gently sewed me back up.
Since then, I've tried to stay close to the Man's house. Sometimes wandering a little farther than I should. But always being able to find my way back. On one of my many trips to visit the Man, he whispered this to me.
"Darling, you've been stitched into this. This person you are now. Each day, experience, person you've met being stitched in one at a time. Becoming a part of you in ways that you can see and a million ways you can't. But no matter what, you get to choose what and who get's stitched in to become part of you."
I went away that day with a new perspective on the world around me. And a new perspective on myself. I wasn't broken. I didn't need to spend my time with people that played roughly with me. I didn't need to spend my time not looking around me and repeatedly tripping over rocks. I was stitched into this, made up of my own choices. And from then on, each choice would be made with deliberation.
Thanks for stopping by! Have a lovely rest of the week!