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From: Marlene <>
Subject: Fw: Yellow Shirt........for the ladies only
Date: Sun, 08 Aug 2004 12:50:06 -0400
References: <002e01c47d2b$9995e5e0$0500a8c0@VAISEY> <0ff001c47d2d$0e8b0a50$da584c51@user8aefylt54k>


My friend, who lives in Anne of Green Gables Land [PEI] and who I hope
to meet one of these days sent me this, so I am passing it on as I
know some of you also like to pass on these writings ..it's a New one to
me and I have had multi repeats of others .... so hoping it's new to you
Hugs
Marlene ....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Get out the Kleenex girls this is weepy........
Subject: FW: Yellow Shirt
Well I certainly need a change of fortune so I hope it brings good luck
The Yellow Shirt.

The baggy yellow shirt had long sleeves, four extra-large pockets trimmed
in black thread and snaps up the front. It was faded from years of wear,
but still in decent shape. I found it in 1963 when I was home from college
on Christmas break, rummaging through bags of clothes Mom intended to give
away. "You're not taking that old thing, are you?" ...Mom said, when she
saw me packing the yellow shirt. "I wore that when I was pregnant with
your brother in 1954! "It's just the thing to wear over my clothes
during art class, Mom. Thanks!" I slipped it into my suitcase before she
could object. The yellow shirt became a part of my college wardrobe.
I loved it. After graduation, I wore the shirt the day I moved into my
new apartment and on Saturday mornings when I cleaned. The next year, I
married. When I became pregnant, I wore the yellow shirt during
big-belly days. I missed Mom and the rest of my family since we were in
Colorado and they were in Illinois. But that shirt helped. I smiled,
remembering that Mother had worn it when she was pregnant, 15 yrs earlier.
That Christmas, mindful of the warm feelings the shirt had given me, I
patched one elbow, wrapped it in holiday paper and sent it to Mom. When Mom
wrote to thank me for her "real" gifts, she said the yellow shirt was lovely.
She never mentioned it again. The next year, my husband, daughter and I
stopped at Mom and Dad's to pick up some furniture. Days later, when we
uncrated the kitchen table, I noticed something yellow taped to its bottom.
The shirt! .....And so the pattern was set. ..... On our next visit home, I
secretly placed the shirt under Mom and Dad's mattress. I don't know how long
it took for her to find it, but almost two years passed before I discovered
it under the base of our living-room floor lamp. The yellow shirt was just
what I needed now while refinishing furniture. The walnut stains added
character. In 1975 my husband and I divorced. With my three children, I
prepared to move back to Illinois. As I packed, a deep depression overtook
me. I wondered if I could make it on my own. I wondered if I would find a job.
I paged through the Bible, looking for comfort. In Ephesians, I read, "So use
every piece of God's armor to resist the enemy whenever he attacks, and
when it is all over, you will be standing up." ... I tried to picture myself
wearing God's armor, but all I saw was the stained yellow shirt. Slowly, it
dawned on me. Wasn't my mother's love a piece of God's armor? My courage was
renewed. Unpacking in our new home, I knew I had to get the shirt back to
Mother. The next time I visited her, I tucked it in her bottom dresser drawer
Meanwhile, I found a good job at a radio station. A year later I discovered
the yellow shirt hidden in a rag bag in my cleaning closet. Something new had
been added. Embroidered in bright green across the breast pocket were the
words "I BELONG TO PAT." Not to be outdone, I got out my own embroidery
materials and added an apostrophe and seven more letters. Now the shirt
proudly proclaimed, I BELONG TO PAT'S MOTHER." But I didn't stop there.
I zig-zagged all the frayed seams, then had a friend mail the shirt in a
fancy box to Mom from Arlington, VA. We enclosed an official looking
letter from "The Institute for the Destitute," announcing that she was the
recipient of an award for good deeds. I would have given anything to see
Mom's face when she opened the box. But, of course, she never mentioned it.
Two years later, in 1978, I remarried. The day of our wedding, Harold and
I put our car in a friend's garage to avoid practical jokers. After the
wedding, while my husband drove us to our honeymoon suite, I reached for a
pillow in the car to rest my head. It felt lumpy. I unzipped the case and
found, wrapped in wedding paper, the yellow shirt. Inside a pocket was a
note: "Read John 14:27-29. I love you both, Mother.
"That night I paged through the Bible in a hotel room and found the verses:
"I am leaving you with a gift: peace of mind and heart. And the peace I
give isn't fragile like the peace the world gives. So don't be troubled or
afraid. Remember what I told you: I am going away, but I will come back to
you again. If you really love me, you will be very happy for me, for now
I can go to the Father, who is greater than I am. I have told you these
things before they happen so that when they do, you will believe in me.
"The shirt was Mother's final gift. She had known for three months that
she had terminal Lou Gehrig's disease.
Mother died the following year age 57. I was tempted to send the yellow
shirt with her to her grave.
But I'm glad I didn't, because it is a vivid reminder of the love-filled
game she and I played for 16 years. Besides, my older daughter is in
college now, majoring in art. And every art student needs a baggy yellow
shirt with big pockets.

There's some mighty fine advice in these words, .........
even if you're not superstitious.

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