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    The Loom

    Tuesday, February 17, 2015

    So when you're handed number 18189 on a little business card at the information desk of the O.R. where your son is having surgery, the process goes a bit like this:

    1) You take said card and make your way to the fish tank. (Because everyone knows that a glimpse at a bright fish will always distract a mama's eyes and still a fast beating heart just a little.)

    2) Find the number on the card and match it with the number on the screen. See what color the number is highlighted by.

    3) Take a seat and get busy being still. Get busy being still....just waiting for the green of the O.R. to turn to the blue (recovery) and finally yellow and the little lady that walks over and says you are soon to be connected with that little piece of heart that beats outside of your chest in just a few minutes.

    Ahhh, sometimes  oftentimes it's in the stillness, in the quiet, in the sitting while-waiting-it-out that we realize the gravity of our situation.

    The realization that God is so very near or we would be so very overcome by the current state of events in our lives is made evident by many a fact at a time like this. I have literally sat and waited for my breath, my very next breath, sitting there in the grip of His grace waiting on number 18189.

    Last week, while I was sitting there waiting I joined my littlest little on a project she was working on.

    Before we left town and headed for another hopeful chance at a successful procedure on my boy, a friend of mine gave our sweet children some crafts to keep them busy on the long trip ahead.

    Little did anyone know, the loom was for mama-and the Lord was about to show his glorious Self through the weaving of the threads on that loom.

    As the hour of 4 turned into 5 and 5 into 6-my fidgety heart took the loom that my little Quinley had already created quite a few masterpieces on and got to work.

    I would weave a few rows, look up and see where 18189 was, look down to weave again, wipe some tears and realize I'd mis-stitched a few rows.

    Frustration would get the best of me and I'd hand the loom to my sweet other half sitting by me on that couch. He'd fix my mistakes and hand me back the loom again. 

    That process repeated itself for the better part of the evening until I'd finally finished a potholder or two myself.

    When the surgeon walked through the doors to greet us at a little past 7 I was finally able to breathe a little better and felt like Mt. Everest had been lifted off my shoulders.

    As we were gathering up our things to head to Tanner's room a few nurses commented on our potholders. 

    "Oh how beautiful," they would say. I heard a lot about how many of them used to do the same thing back in the day. 

    As they talked I looked down and I saw the missed stitches. I saw one orange row where three lines in a row were missed. 

    One was tightly woven in the middle and so loose on the edges.

    I thought about my mistakes and the fact that my potholders weren't perfect.

    I didn't care. 

    Because to me, the grace in the fixing was worth more than my perfection ever would have been. 

    No one looked at my little piece of art and said, "Oh that's cute but it would have been so much better if you wouldn't have messed up here."

    No-when the world looks at our lives friends let me tell you a little nugget of truth here: they aren't looking for perfection. We all know that perfection is unattainable anyway and the strife to get there can drive one to misery in the process.

    What they are looking for someone who is real. Someone living in the trenches and doing their best along the way with a joy that marks the life of a believer.

    That is what makes the web of our lives so beautiful. And that is when Christ really shines through. What is the meaning of our salvation if we're so put together on our own that we don't need the blood of our Savior anyway?

    It isn't the beautiful perfect rows so much as the redeeming ones with more than a missed stitch or two or three-caught and woven together by the surrounding support of a web that catches all.

    It catches all our good days and bad days and the good thing is that even the bad days are worth something!

    We don't just throw them away never to be remembered again, we redeem them and weave them into our story. Our story for His glory.

    That's how the Saviors love makes us known. As His broken but beautifully pieced together and  brightly shining masterpiece.

    Isn't that so much better than perfect?!

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