I waded into deflected double weave for the first time. It took me one full scarf to figure out what I was doing. By the second scarf, I had a much better sense of how the pattern fits together and what to do with the shuttles (most of the time). Both scarves are quite imperfect (no one will ever know…). The loom behaved perfectly, though. This is my Julia’s first project using all eight shafts. Now, I know that this sweet loom is up to any challenge I give her.
By the way, I like the finished airy scarves, even with their flaws.
Hemstitching gives a secure and pretty edge for the fringe on this cotton throw. At the beginning of the throw, I measure out a length of the weft thread for the stitching. And now, at the end, I roll off enough thread from the shuttle’squill to use for the final hemstitching.
I’m always afraid of cutting the length of thread too short. So, I measure off four times the width of the warp, with a pinch extra just in case. That’s too long, and I know it. But I do it anyway. And then, I have a very long thread to pull through every stitch, with the tangles and knots that go with it.
In trying to be perfect, I miss perfection by a long shot. If I measure out more than enough of my own goodness, surely I’ll have plenty to enter heaven, right? But the perfection of heaven requires perfection. It’s impossible for me to be good enough, smart enough, or successful enough to reach perfection. Heaven is for the imperfect. We, the imperfect, enter heaven’s perfection by trusting in the only perfect one, Jesus Christ. His goodness, measured out for us, is precisely enough.
Nothing about the original draft is incorrect, but when I wrote it in pencil on my planning sheet, I transposed one. little. thing. The threading key. “X = plum; black square = other colors.” Exact opposite of what is written in the draft from The Big Book of Weaving, by Laila Lundell. (See When You Misread the Threading Draft, where I discover my dilemma.)
Thanks to Fiberworks weaving software I am working out a solution. I adjusted the tie-up, so the treadle tie-ups on the first, third, fifth, and seventh shafts trade places with the tie-ups on the second, fourth, sixth, and eighth shafts. It works. And now, the one little threading error that is clearly visible seems like a breeze to correct!
There are times when my whole perspective needs an adjustment. It’s time for love. Love adjusts our view. At the heart level, love brings about changes in us. It re-sets our attention and motivations. Because God loved us, we can love, too. We don’t see, understand, or know everything now, which shows how incomplete we humans are. But the love that heaven knows is something we get to participate in here and now. Our cloth is far from perfected, but our love adjustments give us a glimpse of cloth from another realm.
I enjoy making it up as I go—changing blocks and switching colors. That’s what I did for the first quarter of this long rug. Then, I made notes of what I did so I could reverse the pattern to the middle of the rug. The entire sequence, then, is repeated for the second half. And now, there are only six more inches to weave on this autumn-toned rug.
Because of experience I gained by weaving towels with thick and thin threads, I am quite comfortable designing this rug on the loom. Fabric strips and rug warp = thick and thin. I understand it. On the other hand, for every weaving concept I understand, I realize how much more I don’t know at all. Who can be good at it all?
I am pretty good at being “good.” But I’m far from perfect. We know that Jesus went about doing good and helping people. So, yes, we can follow his example. But there’s a problem. Being good is not good enough. Our good will never reach perfection. Fortunately, Jesus gave us more than a good example. He gave his life so that we could receive forgiveness for everything in us that is not good. And that is what we call good news!
I approach weaving like a musician. The looms are instruments, and everything is practice. When I was twelve years old I fell in love with the ‘cello and began learning to play the instrument. Over time, I discovered the value of mindful practice, the need for which is ongoing. It’s not perfection I’m after, but intent to apply all I’ve learned.
This once, my weaving and ‘cello playing overlap. My husband designed this cello endpin stop for me! I got to weave a cord on my band loom that connects the pieces together. (I showed you the beginning steps in Finer Weft for a Stronger Cord.)
What if our interactions with people are opportunities to practice real love? It’s no big deal if I love those who love me. Or, do good when I know someone will return the favor. Or, lend to someone who will pay me back. Real love is loving those who don’t love you back. That takes practice. When we love, do good, and give, expecting nothing in return, we start to resemble God’s character. No, we won’t attain His perfection, but when we apply all He’s taught us, we begin to look like His children. For He loved us long before we loved Him back.