I looked today, at the tapestry.  From afar, it looked so beautiful.  So rich, so vibrant, so captivating.  As I moved closer - I just had to get a better look at this work of art -- I discovered more and more details that just seemed to leap out at me.  Things in the background, that I hadn't noticed before.  Gorgeous.  Such a mixture of color, of subtle and not-so-subtle shadings, of contrasts and compliments.  Speaking volumes with just a few threads.  Often understated, more powerful for that fact.  As the implications of what I'm seeing sink in, I admire the artistry even more.

Coming closer, the perfectionist in me starts to notice little flaws … a thread coming loose here, one seeming to be "out of place" there.   What's this?  This area is a little faded, almost like it got wet somehow … in this area … and in this one … and in this one … almost as if the weaver was crying while working on this picture.    Some of these threads are worn thin … why couldn't I notice all this earlier - before I got out my magnifying glass and started inspecting it??  Oh, well.  I step back, and once again am overwhelmed by the innate beauty of the masterpiece there before me.  The tear spots, and the worn spots, lend an even greater depth to the finished creation.  I don't understand HOW, but they do … it's undeniable.

Curious, I step even closer, and look behind the tapestry.  Something catches my eye … it is the overabundance of the dark threads, covering the underside of the picture.  Surely, with so much bleakness inside, how can the overall picture be as overwhelmingly moving and beautiful, as I seem to remember?  I step back, disbelieving … and look again - nothing has changed.  The picture is still as stunning as I had remembered.  I look at the back of the tapestry again, even more intrigued.  Then, I realize the secret.  All this darkness, all these dull and hurting colors, have been used by the master weaver, in order to make the beauty of the finished product.  Without them to work with, the picture would have lost its vibrancy, its richness of detail.  It would have been much less stunning, in the end.

Awed, I walk away - and realize that my life is like the tapestry - and that God is still working on me, to turn me into the picture He has in mind for me to be …   Quiet, please, the Master Weaver is at work …. I am in His capable and skillful hands …