TAPESTRY
The wind has blown in my direction for many years now, from the east, west, north, and south. Many currents have taken me from there to here. The wind has finally calmed. Where am I? The tapestry is almost finished. The end is near; others say no, but I know it’s close.
So many want to be heard, and there is an abundance of talking and influencing happening in our world today. I believe it’s an attempt to complete the tapestry. Be it personal or otherwise, the tapestry is woven by what it hears, feels, and experiences.
I’ve been thinking about this story for months now; it seems more complex than just a woven piece. It’s a story that is frayed yet still has a sense of completion. Sadly, every story has an ending, and that’s the beauty of the tapestry: it tells the whole story. What will mine look like? What will yours look like? Will they be completed or still marked by frayed ends—threads never told or never healed?
Often called “the rich tapestry of life,” this metaphor describes how life is made up of many intertwined parts—threads of experience, memory, and emotion woven together.
The tapestry is unique to each individual—there are no two people who look the same. The colors, the sunrises, the sunsets, the words, the glances, the smiles, the laughter, the conversations, the hugs, the kisses, and the stories that are told are different for everyone.
Our tapestry tells a story. When completed, they hang on a wall of memories that last for a few years and maybe even into the next generation. At the end of our lives, what does it all mean? Is it really a life that says, “I have lived,” or a life that says, “I have been broken?” The words I write are for those who are to come and for those who see my tapestry and view it as a complete work or a frayed part of humanity.
The tapestry is meant to make a difference; the colors and the weave of brokenness are all mentioned to bring about change in humanity. The brokenness is meant to bring light to those who need change and hope for a future. When people look at our completed and frayed tapestry, they will see that our struggle was real and that we left a path which was meant to be finished. It forges a path to completeness for those who will follow.
The broken are those who are left behind and never raised to life. The broken are those who never realize that their tapestry matters. The broken are those who never ever know that their tapestry is being written and will be hung on a wall one day in front of all who know their story. Every story will be told one day, and every story matters, and that’s the importance of the tapestry.
Woven together, piece by piece and thread by thread, our tapestry is being wondrously constructed. While in the moment, we don’t even realize that our tapestry may be nearing its end. Then, suddenly, the weaving slows, our nail is placed on the wall, and we see our tapestry as a whole. What have we left? What have we given? What message have we offered to humanity? Have we completed our mission? Is our tapestry frayed, or is it complete? So many questions arise in this woven pattern of life.
In my own life, I can testify that my tapestry may never be completed, but as best I can, I will strive to weave every frayed thread. My goal is singular: to be at peace in the end, and to weave a tapestry that says I cared, that says I loved, and that makes an impact on humanity. In the end, I want my tapestry to say I was not lonely, that I was alive, blessed by all who knew me, a strength to those whom I encountered, and an encourager to the fallen. My tapestry will speak for itself. Its colors will be vibrant and full, telling a story of completeness and wholeness to all who knew me. The tapestry will tell our story. What will yours look like?
Mine may tell the inspiring story at the ball field last weekend with my grandsons. As a few of my frayed ends were being woven back together that day, I realized some were still healing and some had already been made whole. It felt like the solidarity between me and the tapestry itself. As tears rose to the edges of my eyes, no one knew, and no one saw, as this quiet, sacred moment unfolded.
I was asking a simple question to my nine-year-old grandson. “So why are baseball gloves so expensive, and what’s with these baseball bats?” He began to explain in detail the reason for the soft, woven leather, the intricacy of the bat, and why the grip had to have a special wrap. The gloves were woven in fine leather, and the pocket was meant to catch the really fast balls. The pocket was supposed to protect the fingers, which fit into a specific place that helps shield the hands. I was so taken by the conversation. He even demonstrated how to hold his bat and how to swing it. Then he looked up at me and said, “That’s how we do it, G Daddy. It’s baseball.”
I thought about this for a few hours, and after talking to my sweet Lisa, I realized how profoundly this moment had impacted me. I felt as if some of the frayed ends of my tapestry had been woven back into place.
There was so much I had missed as a child. I realized my grandson was experiencing something I had never had the opportunity to see, much less be a part of. I was witnessing a chain, once broken by my own trauma, being mended with love, compassion, and a hope that is real.
At his age, I had been fighting for my life, hiding from the evil that tried to destroy me day and night. I was that invisible child, longing to be seen and fighting to survive. There was no love, no baseball, no basketball, and no fun at all. Just the constant search for a place to rest, even for a moment, which felt like everything at the time.
How blessed I am to be in this moment with my grandson, who has the opportunity simply to be. The opportunity to show his G Daddy his tapestry, the exquisite colors being woven in such sweet love. What a beautiful story my daughter and her wonderful husband have written—and continue to write—in his life.
While my own tapestry remains frayed in so many places, I believe these moments in life take those worn pieces of our tapestry and weave them back into place. They complete us. They make us whole. And if we are willing, they bring a special healing to us all.
It’s never too late. The tapestry is waiting for you.
