This is an illustration I heard years ago, that stuck with me...and has helped me this week:
Picture a little girl, sitting on the floor.
Maybe she's coloring, or dressing a doll baby.
Next to her, in a comfortable rocking chair is her grandmother -
Rocking back and forth just a little bit as she carefully works her needlepoint.
As the little girl looks up over her shoulder, she sees colors - lots of bright colors.
And there are the knotted fingers, moving the needle in and out of the canvas.
She sees the knotted threads, and the dangling threads.
And she sees the hint of the pattern her grandmother creates.
She's a little curious.
Glances up from time to time to see what grandma's doing, making sure she's still there.
She doesn't worry about the fact that the colors don't seem to be in the lines.
She isn't anxious that it doesn't all make sense.
She just plays and takes comfort in the presence of her grandmother....
a grandmother who sees the canvas from the other side.
The finished and perfected side.
This week I've been acutely aware that I'm like the little girl.
When I look up, and try to focus on the bigger picture, I just seem to see knots.
And a very unclear, unfinished picture.
Dangling threads abound.
The week began with the very sad news of the death of beautiful young woman.
An acquaintance of mine.
She was seven months pregnant and on the verge of realizing many personal dreams.
Her death left a huge hole in the heart of someone I cherish.
I am restless.
I'm a bit mad about some things.
I'm bored - and that, to me, is inexcusable!
So, I seek to have the heart of the little girl.
Trusting that what I can't understand or make sense of right now
is clear to the weaver, the creator of the tapestry that is my life.
With tragedy comes questions of fairness and an attack of the "whys?"
I feel called to take comfort in my crafters presence.
And the fact that the bigger picture isn't finished yet.