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Life Is Like a Tapestry
This morning I had breakfast with Fitz, an old college roommate. We hadn’t seen each other in twenty-two years. To my surprise—and delight—he looked almost exactly as he did the last time I saw him. The only difference was that his blond hair was mostly gray.
We spent an hour or so eating and reminiscing. We talked. We laughed. And we listened. I shared with him pictures of my family, both of us laughing at the fact that I was a grandpa. I was amazed at how much we still had in common, even though both our lives and taken so many unexpected turns.
I was especially proud that Fitz was still married, still in the ministry, and still growing as a person. He was no worse for the wear, but much wiser and, somehow, deeper and more thoughtful. I know that if we lived closer together, we would be good friends once again.
As he dropped me off at the airport and drove away, I teared up. I knew I would probably not see him again any time soon. After all, he's a busy pastor. I'm a busy CEO. We have our own lives, not to mention the fact that we live at opposite ends of the country. But, still, it made me sad and pensive.
But I think something resonated at an even deeper level. As I was catching him up on the events of my life, I got another high-altitude panoramic look at my own life. I saw the beauty of my journey and how very much I have to be thankful for. I have had a rich and meaningful life. I am so grateful for every experience.
Not that it’s always been easy. Hardly. Frankly, there’s been a lot of pain. Bad decisions. Expensive mistakes. Words and actions that I regret. But, by the grace of God, I have made it this far. I have no complaints. And by the grace of God I will continue on.
It made me also think again how much life is like a tapestry. (Corrie ten Boom originally introduced me to this metaphor.) As it unfolds in real time, it’s like viewing the backside of a tapestry. It appears to be nothing more than a jumble of thread—tangled, frayed, occasionally knotted, and seemingly random. Nothing really makes sense. It’s no wonder people lose heart, give up, and abandon their commitments.
But things are not always what they seem. It’s only when you turn a tapestry over that you see the art: the rich colors, the texture, and the patterns that can make a tapestry a thing of astonishing beauty.
Likewise, occasionally God gives us a glimpse at what He is weaving into the fabric of our lives. That momentary peek at glory gives us the courage to soldier on, knowing that nothing happens by accident. No thread of experience—good or bad—is wasted. When it appears to be that way, we just have to remind ourselves that we are simply looking at the backside of a tapestry. And the One weaving it together, knows precisely what He is doing.
How would you rate this post?
Megan Hyatt says:
Dad,
The high altitude moments make the rest of it worthwhile, don't they! I'm glad to be woven into the tapestry of your life and grateful we've made it this far!
A beautiful, tender post. One certainly written with a heart wide open.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008 at 06:44 PM
Colleen Coble says:
What a beautiful post, Mike! That metaphor has always been so meaningful to me too but I don't often take the time to reflect the way you did this week. Thanks for the reminder!
Wednesday, June 18, 2008 at 07:34 PM
Lawrence W. Wilson says:
Mike, I used to think that my moment of greatest achievement in life would be accompanied by great reward--such as publishing a best-seller (or writing one).
However, I've come to realize that our great triumphs and great sorrows often come hand-in-hand, as they did at the cross.
I guess that's a long way of saying that "life is a tapestry." Thanks for the reminder.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008 at 07:53 PM
William B. Haynes says:
I remember reading that metaphor in a book by Corrie Ten Boom and even used that example with a Thai friend a couple of days ago. Many metaphors don't translate cross-culturally, but that one did beautifully.
Thank you for your writings that you share with us. It adds some extra color to the tapestry of my life.
Blessings - William
Wednesday, June 18, 2008 at 08:40 PM
Timothy Fish says:
It is always interesting to see how the unexpected things come together to create something good.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008 at 08:47 PM
John A. Taylor says:
Mike,
Just this morning, I was telling a friend, that this has been the "year from Hell" for my family.
One of my four daughters had three surgeries this year, my wife was briefly hospitalized, and I recently had major surgery for the first time in my life.
We've experience financial struggles and difficulties at the church we've pastored for nearly ten years.
Then last week, while serving at a Habitat for Humanity project, I fell eight feet from a ladder.
People at work (I'm a bi-vocational pastor) are beginning to joke that maybe they shouldn't ride with me to meetings.
Thankfully I escaped with nothing but severe bruises, wounded pride, and the temporary use of a cane.
As I was expressing all this frustration, I received a phone call.
The boyfriend of one of my daughters called to ask for her hand in marriage.
As he prepares to finish seminary and enter the ministry, his proposal will fulfill my daughter's dream of being a pastor's wife just like her mother.
The whole day changed, as I caught a glimpse of the beauty of the tapestry, and contemplated the joy of having this future son-in-law join our family.
The beauty he sees in my daughter is the character and grace that has developed through those hard times our family has experienced (as well as the natural beauty which comes from her mom).
Reading your post this evening was just another reminder of the wonderful God we serve, and the soaring heights He is prepared to take us to, as He weaves His beauty into the fabric of our lives.
Thanks for sharing your heart, and your gratitude. It reminded me of the beauty of my journey.
Though it isn't always easy, nor seldom safe, it is a glorious journey that our family is traveling.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008 at 09:19 PM
Karla Akins says:
Thanks, I needed to be reminded of this. The God who knit me together in my mother's womb is able to do the most excellent job of weaving a life for me. I need to remember to let go of the loom and let Him fashion my life. Why should I dare to think I have better ideas than God about the design of my life?
"Thine eyes did see my substance, yet being unperfect; and in thy book all my members were written, which in continuance were fashioned, when as yet there was none of them."
God wrote the book of my life. It's up to Him to edit it as He wills.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008 at 09:20 PM
Tiffany Stuart says:
Loved the beauty of this heartfelt post.
May you always be reminded of the tapestry God is creating through the good and bad in your life. I see design.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008 at 11:35 PM
Amy Halleran says:
This is so appropriate for this time in my life. Among the challenges of my husband filing for divorce, raising 3 year old twins and trying to find employment in a completely different industry, it is not always easy to see that God has for my life, though I know it to be true.
Now I am faced with an even bigger challenge as my exhusband announced that he is moving to Hungary on August 1 for 4 yrs . He will see our children 3 times a year, a week at a time. They will not know their father as I knew mine and it pains me.
But maybe this is just a knot in the back of my life tapestry and I have yet to see the beauty that is being woven on the other side. Based on your moving words, I'm sure that when I do see it, it will be full of color and intricate patterns reflecting my crazy beautiful life with my children.
Thank you for sharing.
Thursday, June 19, 2008 at 02:13 AM
megs says:
Thank you for this post - it was just what I needed this morning.
Thursday, June 19, 2008 at 07:48 AM
Pam Halter says:
Thanks ~ I needed to read this today.
Thursday, June 19, 2008 at 08:06 AM
christa allan says:
So true. Too many times I find myself looking at tangled threads, lumpy knots, and seemingly random colors when all I need to do is turn my life over to see how God has taken all of that and woven it into my tapestry.
Thursday, June 19, 2008 at 08:45 AM
Brittany says:
Thank you for your openness, Mike.I had tucked this metaphor away some time ago and this post brought it to light at a time I desperately needed to be reminded of the Lord as an artist.
I especially drawn comfort from the fact that the beautiful, shining threads of life would not be near as striking if they weren't woven in contrast with the dark, seemingly ugly threads of our days. The Lord truly does make all things beautiful in His time.
Thursday, June 19, 2008 at 11:14 AM
Michael S. Hyatt says:
@Brittany: I wish I had expressed your insight of the dark and light threads. That is truly beautiful. Wow!
Thursday, June 19, 2008 at 04:10 PM
Beth K. Vogt says:
When I was younger, I loved the Carly Simon song, "Tapestry." I realize now there wasn't a lot of hope in that song--just melancholia and some interesting lyrics. It's so comforting to see life through the prism of faith now--and to trust that God knows what he's doing, even when I don't.
Thursday, June 19, 2008 at 07:05 PM
Rob Sargeant says:
As well as a tapestry I think of God's will and work in my life as a dance. Twisting and turning, He has been my partner, dancing with me through this life. Always with me. I'm so thankful I heard his voice calling me to join Him in this waltz.
Friday, June 20, 2008 at 01:18 PM
Annie says:
It's clear that Fitz is a "friend of the heart" versus a "friend of the road." With heart friends, we can launch into connection as if it has been an hour or a week since we last spoke and not years.
It is sad that our friends of the heart are scattered about. But how can we expect to experience joy if we never experience the absence of joy?
Saturday, June 21, 2008 at 09:10 AM
John Young says:
Mike do you understand how many friends of ours get so busy they can't go down a memory lane for fear it's a massive time waster.
Part of your modeling for us is balance as you get more emails, phone calls, take more meetings and deal with more intrusions than anybody I know. Yet you don't let those moments own you.
You remind us we're only temporary and you realize that as serious as you take your job, you're only a temporary steward of what Sam Moore built and one day in a couple of decades or less, some new hot shot will sit in your chair and might read all this and wonder how on earth you did it. With focus and effort. Thanks for the subtle message in this one.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008 at 04:32 PM
Kate says:
As a tapestry weaver, I often muse on the way Life and art reflect each other! Loved your post.
Thursday, June 26, 2008 at 05:51 PM
Julie Barnhill says:
Dear Mr. Hyatt,
It's late and I'm catching up on email. Sorta. I found my way over to your blog page yet again and quickly inhaled your tapestry thoughts. If I may, I'd like to point out one of your own "backside" tapestry threads in the life of a woman you do not even know.
In 1993, I was a mother of a two-year old nicknamed by close friends, "Ricky Neal,the Master of Disaster," and his contemplative three-year old sister who voraciously consumed any and all books. I loved my children, Mr. Hyatt (still do, in fact) but I also wanted to write. Better said, I wanted to author a book.
At the time you were in business with Mr. Wolgemuth and one day I simply decided to call and see if there was a spot for me in your speaking/writing line-up. (Uh, my motto has and will always be, "Why not? The worst they can say is no--or not right now."
So I called and was graciously told, well, not right now. Fair enough. I went back to chasing the Master of Disaster, reading to his sister, and contemplating my first book.
Then, a few weeks later, I received a call around 7:00 pm (still remember!)and Mr. Wolgemuth was on the line graciously instructing me on the how-to's of public speaking. As he finished up his call he told me he would send a copy of your proposal guide to use.
He did. And I filed it for nearly seven years. Then at last, I had a book idea. Better yet, I had a publishing house interested in my idea. And I remembered that proposal. I followed it like a treasure map and wah-la! A contract.
Mr. Hyatt, my two-year old "disaster" is now eighteen. His sister, twenty. And I had one more for good measure. Here it is, fourteen years past and I've authored eleven books! Never forget the incredible tapestries of life you have been a part of--my life is but one.
Warmly,
Julie Barnhill
Friday, June 27, 2008 at 01:56 AM
Michael Hyatt says:
@Julie: Wow! What a great story. Thanks so much for sharing it!
Friday, June 27, 2008 at 07:06 AM
Maurizio says:
You made me think about a book I've read years ago, it's a 1989 novel by Clive Barker called Weaveworld where life is actually wowen into a carpet. Barker, although known as an "horror" writer, is very deep and careful in choosing the right word to tap into several emotions. Just an suggestion for the coming summer nights
Tuesday, July 08, 2008 at 09:01 AM