short article from my mother about Corrie Ten Boom

The following is written by Elisabeth Elliot -

 Corrie ten Boom came to Gordon College here in Massachusetts many years ago. When I saw the advertisement, you can be sure that I rushed out to make sure I got a ticket for the banquet that they were going to have and then to hear her speak. She was all that I was longing to see. I had seen THE HIDING PLACE, but I was longing to see her in person. It was not the only opportunity that I had. There were some other opportunities after that.

But on that particular occasion, to my utter astonishment she invited my daughter and me to come and visit her during the following week. She was staying with a family in Boston. So of course we accepted the invitation. We arrived at the door and her assistant, a young woman who was acting as sort of a secretary and also the woman who traveled with her all over the world, met us at the door. She said, "Corrie is in bed upstairs. She's not ill, but the doctor has said that she must take one day out of every seven and spend it in bed, if she insists on tramping for the Lord all over the world. So this happens to be her day of rest."

So the lady escorted us up the stairs into the bedroom. There was Corrie in the bed in purple silk pajamas. She greeted us with such warmth and enthusiasm. Then she had her secretary bring in some tea. We sat and had a lovely time.

In the middle of the time, Corrie suddenly jumped out of bed, walked across the room, opened her suitcase and took out of the suitcase a square of satin with what looked like a totally meaningless jumble of threads, which she held up for us to look at. She said, "Now look at this jumble of threads. It doesn't seem to have any meaning to it whatsoever."

But then she turned it to the other side. On the other side was a beautiful embroidery depicting a golden crown. Then she repeated for us the lovely words by Grant Colfax Tullar.

"My life is but a weaving betwixt my God and me;

I do not choose the colors He worketh steadily.

Oft times He weaveth sorrow, and I in foolish pride

Forget He sees the upper, and I the underside.

Not till the loom is silent and the shuttles cease to fly

Will God unfold the pattern and explain the reason why.

For the dark threads are as needful in the Weaver's skillful hand

As the threads of gold and silver in the pattern He has planned."