Glory

Many months ago, I drew up a lady picking berries. The plan was to have her along the Columbia River in Oregon- a place I have driven a few times and loved so much. As the months have passed, already drawn and ready, I have been stumped at her colors. A piece of linen has hung on it's board for months as I stare at it. I have loved it but been unable to visualize much of anything. My mother assured me that it would come- the colors would come. This past weekend, I decided to just start.

Off the shelves came colors from other rugs and some of my best pieces, my favorite sky, odds and ends, wool from a quilt shop that I dyed with the potential as a border, and I allowed my heart into the loops- one loop at a time.  As I worked, I was reminded of what I learned a while ago. To make something I love- I have to go into the quietest part of me, close out the whole world, turn off my mind and let my heart work.

At one point, I tore out the girl's left arm that was laying by her side- I raised it so she could feel the breeze as she looks toward 'purple mountain majesties' with her basket of freshly picked berries. I also gave her a walking stick for her little hike.

I learned a lesson from working on this rug. I was reminded to allow all the work to happen from within, instead of making it something only my eyes and hands work on. I slowed down and let my heart be my guide. Tonight, I was explaining all this to my husband. I told him that this rug has a lot of meaning to me because it provided a lesson as I went- to quiet myself, away from the noise of my own faults and worries and to be calm and to trust that it will all work out.

"Through thee alone the sky is arched,

Through thee the rose is red;

All things through thee take nobler form,

And look beyond the earth,

The mill-round of our fate appears

A sun-path in thy worth.

Me too thy nobleness has taught

To master my despair;

The fountains of my hidden life

Are through thy friendship fair."

~Ralph Waldo Emerson