This Wild Tapestry
This week, actually this entire year, all of 2018, has been filled with the most. The ACTUAL most. Less than 40 days in and it feels like the year has already held more than I could’ve imagined. Nights with no sleep, days of pain, crazy unpredictable weather, car issues, multiple emergency room trips, surgery, tears, absolute heartache, overwhelming joy, back and forth hospital visits, endless work-ups, arguments, health restrictions, late nights at pet emergency, frustration, semi-diagnoses, new routines, numbness, new jobs, I-can’t-believe-this-is-happening-again’s, unanswered questions, vacation time, interviews, transitions, spontaneous trips, waiting periods, love, encouragement, and prayer prayer prayer.
And that was just in less than 40 days. And regarding things just concerning us. This doesn’t begin to cover things happening in the next ring of our immediate loved ones.
Sometimes I look around and wonder how the heck I’m still standing in the middle of this storm. How we still are. I still don’t know how. I’m wrestling with so many things and thankfully, not alone. That being said, the things I do know are anchoring me. I have a husband who loves me—and can somehow find the strength to pick us up, move us on, and remind me how much he loves me and us no matter what, a family who champions me—even in the midst of the personal life-altering storms they’re walking through, and a God who hasn’t failed me—despite so much unknown.
The sun came out in what felt like the first time in months yesterday. I could’ve cried. I asked, on the way to the hospital, if we could park the car so I could feel the sun hitting me through the window. And afterwards, when the sun was still out, I wanted to chase the warm weather and instantly buy Adirondack chairs, an absolute favorite of mine. We ran through multiple stores, trying to located them before the sun went away, and found them. Plastic, navy, and just perfect. By the time we got home and set up the chairs, the cold weather had rolled back in and the sunshine was almost completely covered by ominous clouds. So, I grabbed a blanket and made the best of it. I sat under the clouds, tried to keep warm, and have my moment. The sun tried a few times to peak behind the clouds and I tried as best as I could to catch its warmth.
And isn’t that just the way it goes? Making the best of all these paradoxes along the way. These moments of seeming opposites. Our life is still wonderful and blessed and full. We’ve lived what has felt like many years in just this month. We aren’t forsaking the good with the bad—just recognizing through trial by fire what for better or worse means. Realizing this life is a tapestry, woven together by an intentional God who knows what a beautiful piece of work it’s going to be, what a lovely piece of art is already is. We walk through this life with glimpses of the final product but for the most part, we just move forward, through frayed edges that look out of place, strangely colored and mismatched, and trusting that our lives are His handiwork and he’s making masterpieces of it. Through the mess and the beautiful. So, we walk confidently forward, through the tears, the hurt, the celebrations, the joy, the unmet expectations, through it all, knowing when it’s all said and done, we can look back in awe at all the beauty he’s made of this wild tapestry.
