tapestry
Yesterday was an interesting day, a day that brought to light something I think is amazing. God is continually weaving a tapestry of our lives. I've heard the old analogy of life to a tapestry, that we only see the wrong side on this life, with confusing patterns and hanging threads that seem to serve no purpose, and when we get to heaven we'll see the beautiful "right side" in all it's glory and everything will make sense. One thing about weaving is that the threads connect in ways we may not at first realize. I think yesterday I got a glimpse of the heavenly side of my own life's tapestry. God is weaving extremely intricate patterns now, and I marvel at the way in which things come together.
When my son was put into the psych ward of a local hospital and then prison, I thought our family was ushered into the most surreal corner of human existence I had ever experienced. It is almost impossible to describe how one minute our lives seemed perfectly "normal" and the next our routine included going places where there was a young, beautiful mother who tried to commit suicide, an apparently healthy teenager whose arms looked like he had been in a tiger cage, person after person being watched 24/7, doing camp craft projects and puzzles or watching tv all day in pjs and hospital-issue slippers. Then the county lock-up...I didn't want to know who was in there but you couldn't help knowing-their faces were on the front page of the paper and the color of the jumpsuit told you, like Hester's A. It seemed like there was no weaving going on at this time, just our lives ripped apart.
But yesterday, particularly at the Celebrate Recovery meeting I attend in the evening, I realized there were people woven into our lives at that time that we did not know about. I bought a brand-new keyboard for worship, and stuck a label on the board, "Property of...." and my name and address. One of the men pulled me aside after the meeting and said, "Are you related to so and so", and he mentioned my son's name. I said yes, and he told me he was the prison chaplain at the county and knew my son. I had just agreed to volunteer in the prison. Another woman in that ministry that I'm getting to know runs a CR group now in the hospital wing where my son stayed for those first weeks. Yet another woman, who is a worship leader in the host church, also works in the prison, and earlier in the day I got a phone call from someone that I did artwork for (a whole 'nother story) who also knows this woman and I found that out because I told her where I was going that night. The links in a chain of relationship, circumstances, God-forged-He knows the very number of hairs on our head! I did not know any of these people a year ago, but they were all there, all in place, a safety net of God's love, serving in these dark haunts of human misery.
I'm reminded of what it says in the Psalms, something to the effect that we cannot go anywhere that God is not there already, from the heights of heaven to the depths of hell itself. We cannot hide, nor are we left alone. The whole concept of this amazes me. He works in the lives of His people and I'm learning not to take anything for granted.
When my son was put into the psych ward of a local hospital and then prison, I thought our family was ushered into the most surreal corner of human existence I had ever experienced. It is almost impossible to describe how one minute our lives seemed perfectly "normal" and the next our routine included going places where there was a young, beautiful mother who tried to commit suicide, an apparently healthy teenager whose arms looked like he had been in a tiger cage, person after person being watched 24/7, doing camp craft projects and puzzles or watching tv all day in pjs and hospital-issue slippers. Then the county lock-up...I didn't want to know who was in there but you couldn't help knowing-their faces were on the front page of the paper and the color of the jumpsuit told you, like Hester's A. It seemed like there was no weaving going on at this time, just our lives ripped apart.
But yesterday, particularly at the Celebrate Recovery meeting I attend in the evening, I realized there were people woven into our lives at that time that we did not know about. I bought a brand-new keyboard for worship, and stuck a label on the board, "Property of...." and my name and address. One of the men pulled me aside after the meeting and said, "Are you related to so and so", and he mentioned my son's name. I said yes, and he told me he was the prison chaplain at the county and knew my son. I had just agreed to volunteer in the prison. Another woman in that ministry that I'm getting to know runs a CR group now in the hospital wing where my son stayed for those first weeks. Yet another woman, who is a worship leader in the host church, also works in the prison, and earlier in the day I got a phone call from someone that I did artwork for (a whole 'nother story) who also knows this woman and I found that out because I told her where I was going that night. The links in a chain of relationship, circumstances, God-forged-He knows the very number of hairs on our head! I did not know any of these people a year ago, but they were all there, all in place, a safety net of God's love, serving in these dark haunts of human misery.
I'm reminded of what it says in the Psalms, something to the effect that we cannot go anywhere that God is not there already, from the heights of heaven to the depths of hell itself. We cannot hide, nor are we left alone. The whole concept of this amazes me. He works in the lives of His people and I'm learning not to take anything for granted.
posted by Sue O. (aka Joannie, SS) at 12:56 AM
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