The Tapestry of Life and Beauty

Life can look like a tapestry. Each thread is carefully selected and entwined with the most delicate touch. Every color is placed exactly with a calculated purpose.  Slowly, the tapestry begins to take form. It is no longer just a pile of threads, but the beginnings of a work of art. Time passes and its true design emerges. While still unfinished, its beauty is unmistakable. The light catches each thread to show off its brilliance. The woven colors exude the excellence of its designer. At a certain point, the artist takes a step back to examine the tapestry. It might look finished, but it could also have additions. Nevertheless, it is a masterpiece. Intriguing. Worthy of praise. Valued.

But the newness of its existence is not long-standing. Over time, its worth is called into question. Harsh weather comes. People start to ignore it or criticize the very object they once praised. Dirt and dust collect in its fibers so that even the utmost pouring of rain cannot restore it. The once beautiful tapestry becomes nothing more than an old, tattered sail. Forgotten. Insignificant. Unwanted.

The story could stop there, but there is beauty yet unseen. Beauty that can only be resurrected by the creator of the tapestry. They know the tapestry's full history and why it was created. The creator has seen it in all stages and knows it can be restored with a persistent, expert touch. It is not their obligation, but their profound desire to continuously work on the masterpiece. They understand the tapestry would never look exactly as it once did, for something can never be new twice. But it would be called beautiful again. The creator knows that its beauty never went away, it was simply hidden. The people had to learn to see beauty again.

I am both the tapestry and the people. Once a bright shiny life, full of optimism, dreams, and plans. Time flew by, memories were made, struggles happened, and the hard realities of a messed-up world collided with a tender soul. I didn't feel beautiful anymore. I couldn't see beautiful anymore. I wasn't even sure I knew what beautiful was. 

As I moved through the timeline of my life, it became easier and easier to focus on the missed opportunities, the dashed hopes, the heartache, and the loss. The beautiful mundane was swept under the rug. Convincing myself that resignation was the same as contentment, I began to say I had made peace with my life. To an extent, the heartache was a little less, the disappointments were more predictable, and the not-so-exciting aspects of life were enough to be claimed as a good life.

But My Creator had different plans. Jesus knew this was no way for His masterpiece to live. He saw my worth beneath the mess and knew I needed to see it too. It has been quite the journey and it will continue for the rest of my life. The restoration process is not glamorous, but it's worth it. I've learned to pause, breathe, acknowledge the bad, and focus on the good. I've learned to see beauty in the mundane and even celebrate it. I've learned to not give up on seeing the beauty because while I might not see it yet, I will see it one day. 

A few recent experiences ended in tears and heartache but became moments with Jesus where He shifted my view so that I could say honestly that I wouldn't have wanted it any other way. They became memories to reflect on without the fear of spiraling. Each time the experiences came to mind was an opportunity to thank Jesus for allowing me to walk through them and grow from them. Jesus taught me to see beauty again.