Give me my scallop-shell of quiet,
My staff of faith to walk upon,
My script of joy, immortal diet,
y bottle of salvation.
My gown of glory, hopes true gauge,
And thus I'll take my pilgrimage.

~Sir Walter Raleigh

A hiker, walking for pleasure, likes to choose between several alluring trails.
The pilgrim desires only the road that leads home.

~Frank W. Boreham

Monday, November 30, 2009

Thanksgiving Tapestry

Weaving take time. Pondering, savoring and sorting do too. I've always been slow on the uptake and counting blessings and putting them in order still is a slow process. Somehow images of events settle in the brain as on a film roll. Only in the developing can the unnecessary or unpleasant be tossed aside and the delightsome ones placed in line. Or its like a tray of pearls of graduated sizes to be laid in order before stringing.
In this case, This day, was made up of threads, assorted colors, to be untangled and sorted, straightened to be then woven.
The first bright thread of the day, was that of a table set with great thought and care. At each place was a name card, each letter hand stamped representing an amazing investment of time and love by a creative, caring hostess. This seemed an echo of the Feast to Come. The care, the names making it communal yet oh so personal.
Always at any such gatherings of this family there is the golden thread of Doxology. Again, an echo of the singing around The Throne of the Lamb.
Through the day so many moments: soft conversations in corners between cousins, young husbands' gentle words or touches of love to their adored brides. (They can't begin to imagine how this thrills and delights the observer.) Aunties immediately responding to diaper needs of the Little Lad. Then the Lad himself toddling about happily dangling a pull toy, going to this one and then another for a hug, a tickle. Also in one moment of distress and not finding mommy comfort sought out the arms of his dear and trusted Nana. If ever there was an anchor point in any tapestry stitching, it would be this blessed child. And there is laughter, always laughter.
Pictures of any sort require contrast in images. There were indeed darker threads of brief shadows in eyes, on brows, for those not present with us, those that belong to us, longed for, but removed by circumstances and geography.
It is hard to complete this allegory with cleverness and wit as there were so many colors of the day, many images that are very dear and lay too deep for disclosure. What can be said regarding this completed picture of family, is that the border that keeps all square and from unravelling is an amazing love. This love is in all, through all, round about all. It is a secure sort of "in spite of" love; a love that acknowledges and accepts flaws but loves nevertheless.
If there is a centerpiece for this particular tapestry piece it is this, and with it this Grand-Nan can go to her grave fully satisfied! It is Little Lad going to the toy basket, selecting a book, bringing it and climbing into this lap in order to hear a story.

Life here in the Shadowland doesn't get much better than this.