The Little White Dress

She picked out a pattern so carefully
And traced every piece on the straight
Of the best piece of fabric that she could afford.
Each step took so long, but she’d wait.

She worked with the scissors until at the last,
All of the scraps cut away,
She assembled a bodice with ribbon and lace.
She lined it so it wouldn’t give way.

And soon she was busy gathering batiste
With delicate thread, but yet strong;
Attaching the bodice of ribbon and lace
To the skirt that was flowing and long.

As she waited for the birth of her little one,
She’d smile at the tiny white dress.
She was happy to know it was finished in time,
And to know she had given her best.

One warm summer day a little girl came.
She wore the little white dress.
The mother’s heart swelled with contentment,
But she knew it was not time to rest.

She worked with the fabric of the little girl’s heart–
Made sure it was soft and yet strong.
She knew it would have to be durable,
For some days would be trying and long.

She once again found the best pattern
In a very old book, tried and true.
She applied its instructions to the little girl’s heart
As she dreamed of the great things she’d do.

She carefully clipped away all of the scraps;
Sinstains and flaws thrown away.
She took the strong thread of God’s loving care
And carefully stitched day to day.

Stitches of holiness, meekness and faith;
Kindness and hope formed a lace.
Stitches so tiny and beautiful;
The tiny heart grew in His grace.

And finally the days were stitched into years.
The mother had seen the child grow.
She’d relished the coming of each little dream.
And now it was time to let go.

Lying beside the dress, still full and white,
Its ribbons and lace freshly pressed,
Will lie the heirlooms kept in the heart;
And these heirlooms are the best;

For stitched with the hands of a mother
And patterned from truths from above,
They’re all bound together with heavenly thread.
These heirlooms are gifts of pure love!