I watched it being made: it was a creation of incredible beauty. There were squares for each of our children and nothing was more precious, more valuable than that afghan:
Our children’s lives.
I loved watching it develop slowly before my wondering eyes. Woven together with prayers and lots of love it would be cherished forever.
But it was marred.
The Master Weaver had me helping. His part was perfect, flawless and beautiful, and when He guided my hands my awkwardness was minimized, His talent shone through.
Although lacking, I still love it.
It is mine, ours; something to be cherished forever. We tried our best but over time damage was revealed: a mouse had chewed holes into the fabric.
I’ll not give up.
It’s still beautiful to me, so precious. I lift it up to show the Master Weaver: Mend it please, could you, please. It took years to create; will it take years to repair?
I’ll wait. And pray.
Lord, use my hands, more patient now from years of grief and experience to help mend. Make us into a soft, comfortable afghan that will bring joy to all.