Whoever first compared life to a tapestry was brilliant. So many threads. Change one thread and the entire picture changes.
I spent so many years trying to deny the interwoven nature of my life's experiences. I tried to believe that my life was strictly linear. That now was now and the past didn't matter. I told myself that I was over it.
But those threads. Those enigmatic, evasive threads. Some threads are loose. Some have faded. And some are just plain missing. There are holes in my life that keep the picture from being complete. This has been tough for me.
Sometimes the missing threads find me, like when you find a thread stuck to your pants. There are times when memories just seem to decide to come back. Something in my life pulls them to me.
When they resurface it's usually a tentative thing, a slow process. They hang there like something just at the edge of my peripheral vision. I know it's there. I can sense it. I can catch a glimpse of it. But if I rush it and turn to catch it, it runs away. It's like chasing a frightened animal. Running after it just pushes it further away. All I can do is be very patient and wait for it to come to me. And they do.
I've tried to secure the loose threads. To make sense of them so that they fit my tapestry again. To slide them back into place so that the picture becomes more evident. I feel like many of them are back where they belong.
And as I rebuild my tapestry I have needed help. I am a novice weaver. I am new to this process. My tapestry is my only solo work. I need the touch of those more experienced, along with the touch of the Master weaver.
The Master has sent me what and who I've needed when I was ready. He knows better than I. As long as I trust Him the tapestry continues to grow more beautiful, more complete. It gains usefulness and purpose.
My next post will begin a new thread. I understand that I haven't finished with the last section, but I'll get back to it. That's the way tapestries are. A little section at a time until the picture becomes clear.