Tired. In the face of closed doors and shuttered hearts.
Discouraged by disinterest. Low-grade resistance.
Some could care less about eternal realities.
It’s easy to feel like giving up.

Tired. In the face of closed doors and shuttered hearts.
Discouraged by disinterest. Low-grade resistance.
Some could care less about eternal realities.
It’s easy to feel like giving up.
“There’s a song in the air. There’s a star in the sky.”
It was always my favorite carol as a kid. At Christmas.
Years later. In a country with only a small percentage of believers. I was walking through a department store one day and suddenly stopped. Listened.
Christmas music was in the air. Playing over the sound system. Lyrics and all.
“…O come let us adore Him, Christ the Lord!”
Colorful skeins of thread surround him. And neutral strings on the loom show no pattern to follow. As far as I can see.
But the old carpet maker knows.
Thread by thread. Hour by hour. Day by day.
He works the loom, creating a rich pattern. A map of threads he already had in mind when he started.