The Hatter

“What’s the matter?” asked the Hatter. “I think I hear somber chatter.” His customer looked forlorn. She then revealed her hat was torn. “Oh, you’ve come to the right place, my dear. I have all that you need right here.”

The Hatter was known around the world for His gentle ways and skillful hands. The hats He made were worn by people from faraway distant lands. All sizes and shapes and purposes had they. His hats never shown wear or fray. But what made His creations so special to own was the love He poured into each from His home.

When one left His house, the Hatter would say, “Wear my hat each and every day.” Some chose to wear it only when it rained. The hat was a comfort when there was pain. Others hardly wore theirs at all, taking it out for the occasional ball.

But here stood this woman, a torn hat to present. The Hatter knew its maker was one who charged rent. You see, some sell hats that promise protection, but the Hatter’s keen eye of detection knows instead what each head needs, depending on their thoughts and deeds.

“I can make you a hat of perfect fit. Come into my house for a while and sit.” The customer meekly entered the door; her daughter was with her, around age four. “Can you fix my mama’s hat?”

“Oh no,” said the Hatter, “I’ll do better than that. You see, this hat must be thrown out. It only brings confusion and doubt. It doesn’t match the rest of her clothes, or even cover her forehead and nose, but I will give your mother exactly what’s best. It will be my joy to see her find rest.”

The little girl seemed delighted yet confused. How does a hat do all that? she mused.

Then her mother stood tall, her new hat in position. She seemed relieved, well past contrition. Life looked suddenly clean and bright, it’s as if the Hatter had turned on a light.

The little girl took His hand and looked up at Him, “This hat is different. It comes from a friend.” “Indeed it does.” His smile was clever, “You can depend on it forever.”

As they entered the street, they heard Him say, “Wear my hat each and every day.”

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One Reply to “The Hatter”

  1. I must put on my thinking cap and ponder this little allegory. ISP is perhaps another part of the armor of God?

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