For as long as I can remember, it fascinated me that the leaders of my home community failed to celebrate its beginning as something ripped from an original piece, then rewoven into a new whole. Bryn Athyn is about as good an example of reweaving as you're likely to find anywhere.
At this moment in time, my home town faces the challenges of torn fabric and fraying ends. Strikes me that's natural, with time. It tends to be the unused outfits that continue to look pristine, hanging in my closet, while the ones I hold most dear are likely to need the most attention, to get the occasional slosh of wine on the sleeve, the pulled thread from a cat's curious claw. Some can, with a little TLC & expert care, be restored, while I have to realize which have seen their day & must be replaced.
As I write this, members from my birth church are at a seminar at Saddleback Church. Even more than I envy them basking in California's warm sunny climes is how much I envy them the opportunity to learn new ways of reweaving cherished fabric into whole, inspiring cloth.
Reweaving dreams, communities, the fabric of our very being. What lovely images to hold in my heart.
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