This is completely beautiful. The depth of feeling and of faith in God and the Benedictine Rule is pulling like the gentle tug of warp and weft strands, weaving new cloth out of what has become threadbare. God bless you, Brother Andrew-Thomas.
I have often felt like a loose thread too, not quite woven in, always slightly outside the pattern. Sometimes I say, half jokingly, that I must be made of platypus hair, strange, rare, and confusing to classify. There are days when I truly wonder if there is space for a platypus like me in the Church. Not just tolerated, but seen, recognized, and intentionally woven in with others who may look nothing like me.
What gives me hope is the idea that the beauty of the tapestry does not depend on uniformity, but on the richness of its threads. Maybe it is exactly the odd strands, the tangled or brightly dyed ones, that give the fabric its strength and character. I do not want to be included only as an exception. I long to belong as I am, with all the complexity I carry, and to believe that even platypus threads have a purpose in the sacred work of weaving something whole.
This is completely beautiful. The depth of feeling and of faith in God and the Benedictine Rule is pulling like the gentle tug of warp and weft strands, weaving new cloth out of what has become threadbare. God bless you, Brother Andrew-Thomas.
Grateful for your presence here.
And for yours
I feel this way about my art-wood burning and how each motion, each mark of the burner matters to the while.
I have often felt like a loose thread too, not quite woven in, always slightly outside the pattern. Sometimes I say, half jokingly, that I must be made of platypus hair, strange, rare, and confusing to classify. There are days when I truly wonder if there is space for a platypus like me in the Church. Not just tolerated, but seen, recognized, and intentionally woven in with others who may look nothing like me.
What gives me hope is the idea that the beauty of the tapestry does not depend on uniformity, but on the richness of its threads. Maybe it is exactly the odd strands, the tangled or brightly dyed ones, that give the fabric its strength and character. I do not want to be included only as an exception. I long to belong as I am, with all the complexity I carry, and to believe that even platypus threads have a purpose in the sacred work of weaving something whole.
Thank you for sharing your insights.