Staring at stitches on a quilt

The Good Shepherd by Rev. Vicky Curtiss. Photo: Gerald Farinas.

There’s something quieting about a quilt—
especially one like The Good Shepherd,
stitched by faithful hands like Rev. Vicky Curtiss’.
I find myself staring not at the whole scene,
but at the tiny threads.

Each stitch, just a slip of thread,
simple as breath.
But together?
They hold a whole image.
They carry memory, intention, love.
They fasten fabric to fabric,
but also soul to story,
person to person.

It makes me think—
how the smallest things bind us:
a shared meal, a kind word,
an old hymn sung side by side.
We are stitched to each other by these moments.
And we are also stitched
to values: mercy, truth, grace.
To realities deeper than what we see:
faith, hope, belonging.

The threads are delicate,
but they do not break.
They stretch over time,
across miles,
through grief and joy alike.
Their strength is in their togetherness.
Their beauty is in their humility.

I keep looking at those stitches—
and I remember:
small things hold much.
And I am held, too.