Tuesday, June 19, 2012


I picked the tin up by the lid. A loud crash boomed across the floor and the scatter of about three dozen buttons followed. I held my breath and fought back tears as my child looked at me for answers. "Maw Maw's buttons" is all I could give him as he rushed over to help me pick them up. It was hard not to cry as we got down on our hands and knees and picked each one up. He quickly put them back into the tin and I held each one between my fingers for as long as I could before I let it go. There were so many. Some still had thread reaching through the holes. I knew they were there in the sewing can that had been passed down to me because I heard them each time I opened that old grease tin she used to store her thread, her thimble, her buttons.

I examined each button I picked up and imagined the shirt it had been separated from. Had my Paw Paw ripped the button off while working in the garage, or had it come from an old housecoat she wore when she had no real reason to get dressed for the day? As I placed each one back into the tin I heard the familiar sound of the hard plastic dropping against the metal. I thought about Him. There are so many times on my visit down here in the flesh that I feel as though I too, am hanging by a thread. I am a button that gets worn over time and sometimes I am hanging by a thread, separating from the cloth. A simple prayer can tighten that thread and hold me on for another day. I want to be found wearing Him everyday but sometimes my buttons aren't quite tight enough to secure Him around me. I need that prayer to thread him against me...and there's nothing better, than wearing HIM.

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