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In the rugged hills of the land of dawn there lived
a carpet weaver. His skills were well known, for his
carpets were treasured all over the province. Their colors
were deep and rich like precious jewels and their designs
had the radiance of the morning sun. Day after day as he
quietly worked at his loom, his grandson tended the sheep.
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One moonless night a bandit entered
the field of the carpet weaver
and stole one of his sheep.
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When the news of the crime reached his neighbors
they rushed to the home of the carpet weaver.
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Their voices were filled with rage,
"We must catch the thief! He must be punished!"
But the carpet weaver kept on weaving and quietly said,
"It will be for the best."
Puzzled and perplexed, the neighbors withdrew.
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The next day the bandit was caught. The judge ordered him
to return the stolen sheep and to also give his horse to the
carpet weaver as penance. And a fine horse it was!
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Pleased that justice had ruled the neighbors came to the weaver's home to celebrate.
"You are a lucky man!" they cheered, "The winds of good fortune are with you."
But the weaver kept on weaving, and he quietly said, "It will be for the best."
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Soon after, the horse broke out of
the paddock and ran away.
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The neighbors again came to comfort the carpet weaver.
They raised their voices bemoaning his loss.
"Oh dear friend, what a terrible misfortune!" they lamented.
But the carpet weaver kept on weaving and quietly said,
"It will be for the best."
Startled and confused the
neighbors shook their
heads and left.
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A few days later the weaver's horse returned--
followed by two wild horses. Now the carpet weaver
had three horses instead of one.
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The neighbors came to rejoice in his good fortune. They congratulated him and told him how lucky he was. But the carpet weaver kept on weaving and he quietly said, "It will be for the best."
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A few days later the
weaver's grandson
attempted to break in one
of the wild horses. It bucked
and kicked and threw him off.
He fell to the ground and broke his leg.
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Once again the neighbors came to commiserate.
"Oh, what terrible luck!" they cried and pitied him.
But the carpet weaver kept on weaving, and he quietly said,
"It will be for the best." This time the neighbors were
enraged by his reply. Was he mocking their words
of sympathy? Had he no feelings for his grandson? Or had he
simply gone crazy? Whatever it was, they decided that
they no longer wanted to have anything to do with him.
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The next day the king came through the village looking
for soldiers for his war. Loud were the cries of mothers,
wives and children as every able-bodied man and boy
in the village was taken.
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Every able-bodied man- but not the carpet weaver's grandson.
"Grandfather," said the boy as he helped cut the huge carpet
from the loom, "Why do you always say 'It will be for the best',
even when bad things happen?"
The weaver spread the carpet out
on the ground and then he said,
"I will tell you a secret: I always
see and expect the best- even
in my darkest hour."
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"We seldom know the reason why good
or bad things happen to us." he said.
"Life is like the wrong side of a carpet.
We see many different colored threads
running every which way.
They seem to make no sense at all.
But one day," he continued,
as he turned the carpet over,
"in this life or thereafter...
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...we will see the right side
of the carpet and then we
will realize that it has all
made a perfect pattern!"
And so it is.
