There is no room for timidity at the loom. It takes courage to dismantle a loom that has a tapestryon it. Dismantling and reassembling a loom doesn’t scare me. But taking a loom apart in the middle of a cherished project? That’s another question altogether. The hardest part was the waiting in between. You can imagine my mix of emotions through the tapestry transition—up, down, and every which way! And then, the moment of truth…Finally…When the warp is evenly tensioned, and the butterflywefts make their first pass through. The lizard has been awakened. Hallelujah!
This slideshow video takes you through the steps of taking the loom down…And putting it up again.
Weaving continues now as if there had been no interruption.
I work across the tapestry a row at a time, starting and stopping many wool butterflies. It gets confusing. It’s not always easy to see how the particular colors in my butterflies relate to the details of this lizard. I closely follow the cartoon and the pattern key by my loom. I have to trust the cartoon more than what I see at the moment.
Every now and then, I climb up on a step stool as far as I dare. The view from this distance gives me a realistic perspective of the weaving. And raises my hopes that the lizard in this tapestry will indeed resemble the green anole that had posed for my camera. I am unable to see that same progress when I’m sitting at the loom with the lizard’s face right in front of me.
When life gets confusing, it’s time to step up. Treasures are hidden in plain sight. Wisdom and knowledge are hidden like that. The treasure storehouse is in Christ. In him we have a heavenly view that gives us a realistic perspective of what we see in front of us. Trust his pattern key, and proceed with confidence. It’s not so confusing, after all.
There are no growth spurts with this lizard. He is certainly growing, but at a slow and steady rate. If I can keep this pace of about ten centimeters a week, I will be able to finish this tapestry before we move from the apartment—our temporary residence. The timeline is set. Will this slow-going, slow-growing lizard cross the finish line before I must dismantle the loom again? Time will tell. I have woven fifty centimeters. I have seventy-five centimeters to go.
Grow. We are woven together by loving each other. Each of us, like strands of wool yarn, with our own degree of hue, saturation, and value, not to mention twist and plies, are united with each other when we hold fast to Jesus Christ, the designer and weaver. His tapestry grows, not in spurts, but slow and steady, year after year, century after century. Always teaching us to love his way—sacrificially. And we know he has just enough time to finish the tapestry masterpiece that he has envisioned from the very beginning.
May you see slow and steady progress in things that matter.
The tapestry is now at forty centimeters, and the lizard is slowly crawling his way around the breast beam. I treat every ten centimeters as a milestone. It’s a good time to examine the work and make additional butterflies. I see that I need forty-four new butterflies to make it through the next ten centimeters! No two butterflies are identical. I vary the combination of yarns for each color set. These subtle color and textural variations add interest and depth to the piece.
Me. It’s all about me. That’s exactly what the tempter wants me to think. Everything should revolve around me. Wait a minute. There’s a tapestry being woven that is much bigger than me. I may be a single wool butterfly. I’m unique. And my colors and textures contribute to the tapestry in important ways. But I mustn’t forget the Grand Weaver. He carefully and deliberately wound these strands of yarn over his loving fingers to create the color he wanted to see in his tapestry. It’s not about me. It’s about the One who holds me in his hands.
May your unique colors contribute to the tapestry.
I started the Lizard tapestry right before our big disruption. Selling your house means that every in-process project instantly becomes vulnerable. Yikes! After a sleepless night, I contacted my friend Joanne Hall. Can this weaving be saved? Yes!, she assured me, as she gave me instructions for dismantling the loom.
Everything is logical about the process. Undo things, tie parts together, take things apart. And I don’t have to cut off the weaving? No. Remove the beam cords from the cloth beam. It’s that simple.
Now all I have to do is wait…
All the dust has settled, the house transaction is done, and the loom has been re-located and put back together. It’s the first thing you see when you enter our ground-floor apartment.
What about the Lizard? Can I resume where I left off? Good news: IT WORKED!
When have you had to wait? Something you dearly long for is unreachable for a while. Waiting for the Lord is always waiting with hope. I trusted my friend’s advice. So, my hope was strong while I waited to see this lizard take shape again. In a similar way, I can trust the Lord when there is a disruption. Wait with strong hope. Wait for the grace to begin again.