Wednesday, August 3, 2011


Often these past weeks, I find
myself limp and tired like a pile of torn clothing awaiting the rag bag. I see stained and frayed garments in a laundry room corner, ready for remaining buttons to be cut off and added to the timeless jar of buttons, cloth ready to be cast aside as rags. I fear that the anger seething within me will rampage unimpeded, until the few bits of fine clay I shaped and fired here on earth are gently harvested by the button-cutter, the woven tapestry of me laid to rest in a dark
and dusty corner of the workshop, used to sop up spilled fluids,
a final task before being thrown into the dumpster and hauled away as trash. Listening to a recent podcast of a Sunday morning I missed, I was given the image of God reweaving our stories.
I remembered the gifted and patient owner of a dry cleaning business, a tiny woman who would repair the 3-corner tears in suits my husband wore to job sites. I knew where to look on the cleaned and pressed garments, yet her repairs were so flawless the cloth was like new. Today, a familiar voice reminds me. God simply gauges the damage and reweaves us. Skillfully. Patiently. God makes us new again.


1 comment:

Interruption said...

Are you okay...I hope writing this helped your anger and pain. Take care.

Peace, Nico