I came across this article few seconds ago. I think its a good one.
So,I decided to post it here.

My mom gave me an outdoors overcoat. It was dark green. It blended well with the woods.
I wore that jacket in every season and every day for fifteen years. With me in it, it climbed wilderness mountains, endured raging storms, hitchhiked two continents, camped, slept in unsavory places, hiked and was ill used, abused and beloved.
Five years into owning it there was general agitation at home, given its condition, to replace it. Instead, I decided to mend it.

Mending isn’t fixing. Fixing might mean that the evidence of the problem disappears. As in “It’s fixed as good as new.”
Mending maintains a record. On the torn pocket that I got climbing in the Teton Mountains, I used pea-green, tent patching, rip-stop nylon. The green Velcro closings at the cuffs torn in Ecuador were replaced with black and stitched with sky blue thread. The stitching on the zipper, ripped in New York City, was deep purple because purple was the color I had with me.
Every tear, every rip, every stitch told a story.

Stopping to sew a torn seam seems quaint in our toss-off society, but some things are just worth mending.
Relationships get mended. Sometimes they can’t be fixed.
Sometimes the breakage — the wound — can’t be made invisible.
But often enough relationships can be mended, not as good as new, but pretty good.

Let’s Pray: Dear God, please give us the thread, the needle, the eyes and the desire to stitch whatever needs mending in our lives. Amen.
Today’s Thought Is: A torn seam stitched and patched together is often stronger than it was before.

Mark 2:21: "No one sews a piece of unshrunk cloth on an old cloak; otherwise, the patch pulls away from it, the new from the old, and a worse tear is made. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------