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New to both the town and the church, Ellen wanted to be involved, to give of herself, to share her gifts. As it happened, the parish needed a new tapestry for one of the smaller chapels.
And as a seamstress, Ellen considered this a perfect opportunity.
She worked diligently, using colorful and delicate fabric, recreating a well-known rendition of Mary the Mother of Jesus. Others who had seen it were effusive, affirming that what she had created was beautiful.
When the day for unveiling arrives, Ellen presents her gift with an understandable sense of gratification and fulfillment. The answer from the church committee is unexpected and brief, "We can't use this."
(Because the tapestry was inappropriate or distasteful? No.)
"The dimensions of the tapestry," they tell her, "are not quite correct."
We live like ill-taught piano students. We are so afraid of the flub that will get us in dutch, we don't hear the music, we only play the right notes. Robert Capon
As Ellen tells me her story, I want to laugh out loud, until I realize that she is serious. And I can feel my exasperation with small mindedness. "I'm sorry," I tell her.
"At first I was completely deflated," she says. "But some time passed and then it occurred to me; I'm going to be okay. Do you know why? Because I didn't make the tapestry for them."
Yes, life can squeeze us.
Yes, people can be cruel and without mercy.
And yes, the "system" can be crippling.
I can assure you that in her situation, I could have found a way to nurse a grudge. But here's the deal: If we don't learn Ellen's lesson, in the end we become encumbered, because we will cede our identity and our power (which means our ability to choose, to create, to be intentional, to be generous, to be big-hearted and to change).
Never allow a person to tell you No
who doesn't have the power to say Yes. Eleanor Roosevelt
I can smile now. However, in a world that squeezes us, it's easy to get lost. To no longer be in our own skin.
To, literally, give over our identity.
In a national magazine, an ad for the Humane Society minced no words. Above an adorable puppy and kitten, the ad read, "It's who owns them that makes them important."
So I wonder. Who or what owns us, that tells us whatever we have done or given is "not enough?"
That is one part of the story--our tendency to not hear the music while nursing our fear of missing the right notes. So, our fear becomes a taskmaster. The tapestries I create are no longer about what is in my heart, but about who I need to please or impress or even amaze. There have been times this year when I have been pushed or pulled toward exhaustion without being aware of it. And I have felt empty, in a place where is it easy to believe the whole world is colored by gloom. Here's the deal: when we are given over to fear, we cannot rest, or absorb, or create, or take delight. And it is easy to forget Ellen's poignant wisdom; that tapestry making is about living the moment--this moment--wholehearted, and without need for approval.
Here's the other part of the story--what started as an obstacle (impediment or hindrance) literally becomes a place from which her world (and mine) is transformed. Let's face it: more often than not, we resist and even resent obstacles. We no longer see the tapestry, but only that which diminishes and belittles and shames. We can feel overwhelmed and it is easy to be jaded and to quit. But what if beautiful tapestries are born in these very places where are ready, literally, to give up?
Where do we find this reservoir that gives us the courage and strength and spirit to move forward? I am certain of this; overcoming obstacles is not the goal. As if we must "defeat" someone or something. Ellen's story is not about who "won" or "lost." It's about being at home in your skin and living from your heart. Knowing that each day we are able to continue to weave the tapestry of our lives. . .with a purity of spirit and intention.
Perhaps the truth depends on a walk around the lake. Wallace Stevens
So. The antidote? Filling the reservoir? Perhaps we need the permission to feed (or fill) what is already there, and letting the gift of ordinary days wash over us.
Meaning that it's not just choosing to create the tapestry, it's that we choose to give up being afraid. . .
Of not being enough
Of not measuring up
Of being judged as insufficient.
Today I put aside my "assignments" and walk to Parque Central, in the center of Antigua, where the speed limit, so far as I can tell, is amble. I find a bench near the fountain and absorb life as it circles and eddies around me. This is an afternoon for relaxation, reading, laughing, listening and posing for photos--couples, families, friends--in front of the famous fountain. Indigenous women--in their traditional dress (traje), color specific to their pueblo or region--circulate, selling their wares, jewelry and scarves, in rainbows of color. From the other side of the park, music from a flute floats and drifts. And the ubiquitous shoeshine boys are quick to point out that they can make your beat-up tennis shoes look new. The sky opens and a late afternoon shower scatters the crowd, everyone seeking cover under the portico that wraps the opposite side of the park square. I have read no newspapers, checked no websites. So save for a photo in front of a fountain, nothing made news here today. Although, I am certain there were a few tapestries in the making.
It is always the simple things that change our lives. And these things never happen when you are looking for them to happen. Life will reveal answers at the pace life wishes to do so. You feel like running, but life is on a stroll. This is how God does things. Donald Miller
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