One of the first bits of wisdom imparted to a novice quilter is that the Amish, who make some of the most simple but exquisite quilts in the world, purposely plan a mistake into each of their projects because they believe attempts at human perfection mock God. Of course, any quilter knows that you don’t have to plan for imperfections in your work; they come quite naturally on their own, so I don’t know if this bit of Amish folklore rings true or not, but the idea does. – Marie Bostwick, A Single Thread
I’m finding grace keeps slipping into what I’m reading. It was woven all through the pages of He Loves Me! (the last nonfiction book I read). And it is also here, unexpectedly, on the pages of a novel called A Single Thread.
The night I finished He Loves Me! I drifted off to sleep. Somewhere around 3am a noise startled me awake. Opening my eyes two questions instantly ran across the blank page of my mind…
Does your way work?
Has it ever worked?
These questions did not feel condemning. Quite the opposite–they felt like a caress of my soul, as if Someone who loved me very much was running their fingers down my cheek, looking into my eyes, and asking me what needed to be asked because that’s what love does.
I answered “no” to both questions, of course. My way–so often full or works and weariness–did not and had not ever worked. Then I slipped back to sleep in the quiet stillness of a new beginning.
When I awoke, I felt different somehow–lighter, freer. It was if someone had moved my heart to a new place while I slept. It still feels unfamiliar at times. I occassionally stub my toe on the corners, or forget where a particular room is. But even if I don’t know all of its ins and outs yet, I do know the name of this place of grace. My heart told me the first moment I arrived.
Its name is Home.