Welcome to my weaving studio, which doubles as our home, I said, as they walked up to the front door. Our luncheon guests were introduced to the weaving environment of the Texas hill country home that Steve and I enjoy. Our time together was refreshing, filled with lively conversation over a home-cooked meal, complete with discussions about looms, threads, and like-minded pleasures.
Six rosepath rag rugs encompass the cloth beam, with the back tie-on bar just inches behind the heddles. It seems only fitting that the woman who gave me my first rosepath rag-weaving experience should be given the cherished scissors for this momentous occasion. Joanne, will you do us the honor of cutting off? I couldn’t have wished for a happier ending of this warp.
We all have wishes, some of which we make public, and some remain as closely-held secrets. It’s those deep wishes that make us who we are. God knows your name. He knows your deep desires. One day, all our secret wishes will be rolled out like a stretch of rag rugs for the Maker to examine. Amazingly, he offers grace to cover the wrongs. And He embroiders his Name on the hand-crafted souls that belong to him.
May your cloth beam keep filling up with deep-hearted wishes.
Slow weaving is even slower when a full week goes by since you last touched the loom. If only I could sit here and do this every day, hours at a time. But other responsibilities…and other looms call for my attention.
We don’t see much of the main subject yet. I am intensely eager to see a distinguishable image. I suspect you may be eager to see it, as well. But I know it’s coming, so I gladly pursue this adventure, one row at a time.
Gladly. We need strength beyond ourselves to endure and be patient—with gladness. Endurance and patience with a glad attitude is an indicator of maturity. Strength for endurance is one of the treasures that God supplies when we ask. And he reminds us that he sees the completed picture. And that it’s worth the pursuit. Aren’t you glad?
I just reached the quarter-of-the-way mark. After completing a long border at the beginning of this runner, I have been weaving the same two blocks over and over. And over. Really? I’m only a fourth of the way there? This long table runner is a marathon, not a sprint.
I am already thinking about the rag rug project that’s up next. The plans are written out. The rug warp is waiting on my shelf. And it has been too long since I’ve had rag rugs on the loom. As you know, rag rugs are my favorite. If I’m not careful, impatience creeps in.
Look up to heaven. When you pray, it’s a signal that you want the Lord of heaven to get involved. It’s a way of saying you don’t have everything you need on your own. Like patience. And gratitude. He brings you back to remember how much you enjoy the mechanics of weaving–throwing the shuttle back and forth, gliding your feet across the treadles, making threads turn into cloth. Living a dream come true. Miles and miles of Sålldräll (M’s and O’s)? Yes, please. I’m happy with that.
I noticed that a warpend was starting to fray, but I kept on weaving. I thought I could make it past the weak spot. Well, I was wrong. The warp end broke. So much for happy weaving! A broken warp end at the selvedge is no fun, especially on a weft-faced piece like this. Looking back, I wish I had taken time to splice in a new length of thread when I first noticed the weakness. But at the time, I didn’t want to be bothered with that. I just wanted to weave.
We tell ourselves if we do what we want, we will be happy. That’s a delusion. Happiness will fail you. It doesn’t last. I was only happy weaving until the thread broke. There is something better than happiness. Faithfulness. It’s better to be faithful in the moment, even if it puts a delay on being happy. Faithfulness lasts. Next time, I hope to choose the long satisfaction of faithfulness over the short-lived gain of happiness.
Do you ever go out on a limb? I’ve been known to play it safe. But not today! My excitement for weaving this kuvikas structure was severely dampened when I saw that the pattern in the cloth was not the pattern I intended. What happened? I had switched the threading for shafts 1 and 2! Consistently, too–all the way across the warp.
I could leave the threading as is. No one would know. Oh, the arguments I had with myself at this point. “Take it out, and re-thread.” “You’d be crazy to take it out and re-thread.” The crazy self won. (I did find myself asking, “What solution would Becky Ashenden, the weaving solution genius, come up with?”) Here is the stupendous thing: I was able to correct the pattern by doing shaft-bar gymnastics. And no re-threading! What?! (I documented the process and will bring it to you in my Quiet Friday post at the end of the month.)
There are times when we are called to go out on a limb. It’s the right thing to do. But the prospect is overwhelming. We ask, “Who? Me?” And “How, Lord?” Trust the Lord, one step at a time. He will be with you. Marvelous things will happen, catching even you by surprise.