weaving deeper meaning into tapestries

five years ago, i went to turkey on a tour of biblical sites.

one day, we visited a turkish carpet school.

we were led all through the compound, told all about the carpet-making process.

basketfuls of silk cocoons rested until they were made into strands of silk.

near a giant spinning wheel, an array of hand-dyed wool waited to be used in one carpet or another. the richness and variety of colors amazed me.

above the weavers, specific colors used in their carpets hung in queue for their moment in the pattern.

in this open air 'studio', weavers quietly focused on their pieces. i was intrigued by the color, texture, and fine craftsmanship i witnessed as the guide explained the traditional designs the girls were following. this was a place for them to master various regional patterns known throughout turkey. who would have given so much thought to the rug beneath your feet?

as i watched, i noticed that each girl had a picture of the carpet she was making above her loom. this showed the rug in its completed design. this part amazed me the most: to glance at the picture and then downward at the work-in-progress. without the design above, it was nearly impossible to see where the weaver was going with her pattern.

at the time, i was so enthralled with the whole atmosphere, i didn't have time to think any deeper. but sometime later- maybe on the ride across the countryside, maybe back at home reviewing the pictures- i realized that there was a much, much deeper lesson about these carpets.

i don't have a picture of this one weaver's loom to share, but while i was there, i noticed one girl working on a carpet all in blacks and beiges. it was beautiful. but she had added a few rows of blood red that looked completely out of place. it practically ruined the entire 'look' of the rug. however, studying her pattern, it became obvious: red was the signature color of the carpet; it was the most integral part of the design. she had simply been working on the border that would 'hold' it all together.

isn't that a lot like life?

we're going along, thinking everything is going according 'to plan.' we have everything neatened up, the way we want it to go, and (more importantly) the way it's always been.

then, all of a sudden, something comes and messes the whole thing up.

sure- we try to go against the pattern. and it hurts- (it's no mistake these patterns are secured with double knots- especially the really good carpets- the knots are the tell-tale sign of quality.) without something really holding fast, it just looks like a good design- the beauty needs to be backed up with solid construction. so, we bend to this new direction, and soon become adjusted to the 'new' way of being.

it's only in hindsight that we can see how it all works together. how on the backside of the tapestry, all parts are woven into one. how there is a master plan that intended all those colors; in fact, they were all lining up in wait, ready to be incorporated together.

perhaps because it was 'blood red', i especially related this analogy to tragedy. the way tragedy transforms us, how it makes us who we are. and, how in tragedy, we cling to truth and peace and love- just like the knots cling to the grounding of the loom's fibers.

there is a master plan- there is a master weaver- and there is beauty in the design.

look at the turkish carpets throughout this post, and imagine them as a 'life.'

the borders of childhood and old age.

the busy-ness of the middle of life.

the transitions from childhood to adulthood (how stretching! how changing!)

and i can only guess it is the same from adulthood to old age.

and the beauty- of all those colors working together to make one unified design.

"That's why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good. God knew what he was doing from the very beginning."

(Romans 8:28-29, The Message)