This is the last post in our series of discussions on Corrie ten Boom’s “The Hiding Place.” And in the 5+ years we’ve been doing this, this is the saddest I’ve been to see a book discussion end. There were a lot of emotions while I was reading this book, but this, this chapter – not even written by Corrie, but instead, an epilogue by Corrie’s friend and fellow author, Elizabeth Sherrill, was the one that made me cry. Elizabeth wrote about Corrie, “going home.” That phrase has become a beloved part of my personal vocabulary since June, when I walked Rick home. I smile thinking about both Corrie and Rick there, and it makes me look forward to a day (a long time from now), when I’ll get to go there, too.
But this chapter also shared one of my favorite analogies. In the words of Elizabeth Sherrill:
I remember the time thirteen-year-old Liz and I were helping Corrie unpack. From the bottom of the suitcase, Liz lifted a folded cloth with some very amateur-looking needlework on it – uneven stitches, mismatched colors, loose threads, snarls.
“What are you making?” Liz asked, bewildered.
“Oh, that’s not mine,” Corrie said. “That’s the work of the greatest weaver of all.”
Liz looked dubiously at the tangled mess.
“But Liz,” Corrie told her, “you’re looking at the wrong side!” She took the sorry thing from Liz’s hand. “This is what our lives look like, from our limited viewpoint.”
Then, with a flourish, Corrie shook open the cloth and turned it around to display a magnificent crown embroidered in red, purple, and gold. “But when we turn over the threads of our lives to God, this is what He sees!” (ebook location 4436)
A few months before Rick went home, I flew out to visit him and his wife. The first night I was there, Rick, though tired, had enough energy to pick up a guitar and strum around on it a bit. He sat and delicately tuned the strings and then, having heard me tell the story of my Mom, tuning her guitar and seguing into an old song, Rick segued into this song, which we sang together. In June, I sat by his bed in hospice and sang it again – so many times I lost count. And that song is so appropriate here:
Farther along we’ll know all about it.
Farther along we’ll understand why.
Cheer up my brother,
Live in the sunshine.
We’ll understand it all by and by.
This post is part of a weekly discussion on Corrie ten Boom’s classic, “The Hiding Place.” You do not have to read the book to weigh in on whatever topic is being discussed. However, if you have written a response to this week’s chapter, go visit Jason, my co-facilitator, at Connecting to Impact, to link it up at the widget and to see what he has to say.
About Sarah Salter
Well you out did yourself this time…Very good.. Memories of me looking at things my Great Aunt Mag did, and I wondered about the uneven stitches and she turned it over and show me.. Then my Mama would often sing when she was cleaning etc.. and Farther Along was one of the songs she would sing.. We don’t always know why, but farther along we will..
Hard to remember when we’re staring at the mess, but thankfully, He puts us with people who will remind us if we listen. 🙂 Thanks Sarah.
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