The Tapestry
My Maker is most intentional with each thread as He weaves the tapestry of my life.
The purples, pinks, and orange threads of warmth and delight, trickling through my days, covering my family, and captivating my heart as it envelops my being.
That You allow the greens and deepest blue pieces of yarn to unravel in my days, that I should notice the rolling fields that you invite me to dance in freely — or the night sky that you so delicately painted for me, neglecting not a single inch of space, sprinkling bursts of light where there only seems to permit darkness.
But no— You break the ruling of expectation, because Your love is the ultimate surprise. And through this all, You force yourself to allow dark gray shreds of fabric, blunt and harsh, adding a confusing yet enticing — somber yet unexpected depth. Your heart hurts as you weave these threads into the fabric of my life, but you know that it must be so. You even have to walk away for a moment, as You empathize with me. Yet as You return, hoping for a set of fresh eyes,
You stumble upon delight at the work of Your hands.
As You gaze at the piece You have so intricately been working on, You cock Your head to the side, much to Your surprise. You for whatever reason, can declare it good!
That amidst the beauty of the bright colors being interrupted by the darkness penetrating through, You notice a beautiful pattern emerging fourth.
“But wait!” You declare.
“It is not finished!”
You realize it will never be, for that matter.
You know there is one thing missing. You search tirelessly through every cabinet and drawer, looking for your box of beloved and holy things.
“Aha!”
You see it.
The finest little strand of gold thread.
It is time, to weave through every crevice left, unmet by the color You so kindly placed down.
THIS is Your Spirit.
The Spirit that illuminates all things and puts them into context. The Spirit that gives a never-ending supply of wisdom to those who abide.
And now,
For the final touch,
The makers mark on the bottom. Showing that this colorful and chaotic conglomeration was not an accident,
But that the Creator meant for
Every.
Last.
Thread.
