Thoughts About Weaving

Several years ago my sister, who had become quite accomplished in the skill of weaving, gifted me with a blanket made by her on her loom. At the time I appreciated the gift, and for years we kept it around our home, using it on cool evenings as a comforter while we sat near the fire place in our den. But it did not hold any great significance to me because I knew she could always make me another one should anything happen to that blanket.

In December 2007 my sister developed a severe stroke and was gone from this life in less than 3 days. My “big” sister (9 years separated us) was no longer physically present to be my friend, my sometimes surrogate mother, my geographically distant go to person. I missed her greatly and still think of her almost daily, wistfully, as I do my parents who passed away before her.

Now the blanket is more important to me. It is irreplaceable. The love and effort placed into its tightly woven, intricate design is unique and can never be replicated, for the love that is woven into that fabric cannot be replaced, even if the fabric could be reproduced by another weaver. Each morning as I drink my coffee and have my time of Bible reading and prayer, I sit with that blanket in my favorite chair, sometimes using it for warmth, sometimes draping it over my white dress shirt so that it shields me from the coffee I am prone to spill—the blanket has a few stains from coffee, but they are hardly noticeable because of its muted brown and beige colors.

When she first died I would not have thought about using it for such a purpose, to risk staining it; but after a while, I realized she gave it to me to as a comforter and to be used in our daily life, not to be an idol. She gave it as a gift to be used, and each morning it serves as a memorial to her life as I prepare for the day.

You and I may never learn to weave, at least not blankets; but we will weave things of significance into the lives of those around us, those who love us, who depend upon us—those to whom we represent the “go to” person. Every time we invest the love of God in one of those people, we are weaving our lives into theirs, imprinting a memory of caring, leaving a legacy of commitment to their well-being, an inheritance that cannot be replaced by anyone else.

Whether our gift to them is encouragement or physical support, discipline or life coaching, the friendship of walking along side, or whatever the Great Weaver has given us as the gift to invest in that person, it is as unique as the weave of my sister’s blanket, and irreplaceable as the love that was threaded into that work of art she gave me.

Find joy and fulfillment in providing for those in whom you have weaved God’s love. Know that those relationships are not accidents, but a sovereignly ordained gift from above. The gift of being a servant and the gift of being served are irrevocably connected by the Master, woven together by His loving hand. Also, find freedom in allowing that person to whom you have given your gift to use the gift as they see fit, even it sometimes gets stained, or seems to be unappreciated—there were years between the gifting of the blanket from my sister and the full appreciation of the love that was invested in its creation. Such may be the case in the love we give freely to others, and surely is the case in the love that God has given to us—we all are slow to recognize what gifts have been given to us, and often only in retrospect do we, or will we fully understand. (1 Cor. 13:12).