Women's Bible study is over for the year. Today, I wonder what we will survive before we come together again next year. I don't ask that question to be morbid, but rather to recognize the strong group of women who have come through so much with the grace few people I know possess.
I've spent most of this year jealous of women who seem to overcome when I feel stagnant with hurt. I've noticed my mind involuntarily flits to things I would never say out loud in mixed company and would rather put out of my mind. Like the fact that my son would be seven months old this month.
But God hasn't forgotten me. And if there's anything those women taught me it's that I can hold on to Him, because He is invariably good--even when things seem wrong in every sense of the word. It's taken me a long time to embrace that fact. I guess sometimes we know things we don't always recognize.
Until we see it embodied in faces who can't deny it.
I saw it in their faces. Every one of those women survived a deep hurt. A wrong. They felt , at some point, stagnant. Some of them shared that hurt with others. Many of them cried in the quiet hours alone. But each of them wove a tiny thread of belief and faith. And it has taken each of those threads to remind me that the pattern isn't always pretty, but it's still a pattern. Planned. Purposeful. Created.
I guess sometimes that's what we need to know. There is a pattern. And it's being woven in and out of your life with threads that are ultimately beautiful--in joy and sadness.
With a bit of love caught in every stitch.