Life Loom

Life loom we your thread approach you with reverence, awe, and infinite respect. Accept, please do - the offering of ourselves, our separate strands, to be woven in and out, over, under and through, as we seek to become a part of you. You invite us to join you, to add to and draw from, the fabric of the world - make us worthy of that invitation. Powerless we are, alone, like clay without the potter's loving hands or dough without the baker's kneading hands we seek for communion, for fulfillment. How difficult it is to contribute to, and not to control - to utter that simple yes - when really we would rather say not yet, later, perhaps and perchance. Father Abraham too was invited to cast his fate to your loom - a worn out thread, frayed, and tired, and the weaver just pointed to the stars. What a tapestry you weave, calling us beyond our alone-ness and security, definitions and boundaries, to be surprised by miracles of the textures now and to come - Oh if we could but perceive. Come follow me, you say, and be shuttled back and forth, back and forth - trust me, you say, trust me; as the tapestry of days becomes the tapestry of weeks, of months and years of lives - What things you ask, what trust, too much we say - Why? Must we too, like the grain of wheat, also die? Why the gethsemanis, the golgothas? But the visions of tapestries remain the patterns and fabric that could be, that could be, and life loom waits, and calls through myriads of faces in a collage of different tongues; How can we escape you? We cannot. Yes, though, is all you ask, and indeed you ask all. You know our failings and faults, our frayed-ness and frailty, and yet you call, call our magnificent imperfections to fullness Die and rise, you say, die and rise; and you fill our lives with crosses, and empty graves, as we are shuttled back and forth, back and forth. Out of our pain you weave Joy, out of our good Fridays, you weave Easters; out of strands you weave a fabric, a tapestry. Out of parts you weave a whole.