Beautyberries, Birds, and Stitches: A September Prayer Flag Story

I begin each month’s prayer flag with a walk around our land. I’m on the lookout for colors that are prevalent, or perhaps a theme that may be emerging. For September I was drawn to the vibrant colors of the American Beautyberry (Callicarpa americana) and the coleus plants growing in the shade garden. Themes of fruiting and harvest emerged, guiding my intention for this flag.

Wanting to do free form embroidery along with fabric collage, I turned to my fabric scraps, silk sari ribbon and DMC cotton embroidery floss. The stem is made from a thin strip of sari ribbon, and I embroidered the berries with full strands of floss, using cross-stitch stars to capture their clustered beauty. For the leaves, I cut pieces from an old cotton cloth I once used to clean my paintbrushes. These pieces carry their own story, adding another layer of meaning. This was stitched onto a piece of vintage linen towel, a fabric I love for its softness as I hold it in my hands.

When this main image was complete, I framed it with scraps of fabric and stitched it all onto a bright yellow-green cloth—one of the colors in the coleus leaves. Every choice felt connected to the season, the land, and the rhythm of life around me. I love when it all falls into place like this.

This prayer flag unfolded over four or five sittings, and each session brought a different prayer.

Early in the month, I found myself praying for rain—we’d had so little this summer. As I stitched the berries, I moved into contemplative prayer - thinking about the birds visiting the beautyberry shrub. In past years, robins enjoyed them but they aren’t around right now. This year mockingbirds, blue jays, and cardinals have had the fruit to themselves. As the berries continue to ripen up the stem, I’m hoping the robins will come back when the later clusters are ready.

Later, as I stitched, I gave thanks for the rain that finally arrived—six inches from the remnants of Hurricane Helene—but I also stitched with a heavy heart for the many places devastated by the storm, knowing others are struggling and the journey ahead for them will be long.

Two days ago, as I finished the stitching, I listened to music from 1970. The pop hits. I was young then and had lost my Dad the year before. Some the songs touched my heart as precious memories of that time in my life. With others, I heard the lyrics through the ears of my grown up self. It was like hearing old stories with new wisdom, a reminder of how life, love, and loss shape us. This reflection, too, became a prayer—a way of remembering and being thankful for the people and moments that have touched my heart.

I am so glad I began slow stitching as a prayer practice. It continues to be something I look forward to doing each month. It continues to open me to God’s presence and the sense that wherever I look, God is there.