'Life With Frayed Edges' and words from Corrie Ten Boom

Life With

Frayed Edges 

These days set apart

don’t lend themselves

to perfection.

Hair needs cut. 

Grocery items that cannot be found.

Poor Wi-fi connection in the middle of an important call.

There were great plans of course. The garden, this summer at least, would be a vision of colour. Gates would be painted. 

Cupboards would be tidied. That craft project finished. 

Odds and ends completed.

But it hasn’t turned out quite like that. 

Yes, there are moments of great beauty and joy. 

Time with family is precious. 

The garden is beautiful, but might suit wildlife better this year.

And life’s frayed edges are not so easy to stitch back into place.

I’ve noticed a greater honesty at the present. 

And a deeper kindness.

Are we becoming more thoughtful, and patient as well?

Perhaps it’s harder to maintain a façade in these days.

Who is there to pretend for? Phone calls and video links aren’t always beautifully staged…the book shelf isn’t always correctly styled. And in the distant voices there is an anxiety underlying much of this time. Faces are worried and lined. The conversation inevitably shifts back and forth from the death toll, the most vulnerable, the economic worries, and the needs of schools.

Yes, we are thankful for water and food, for the flowers and the fields, for the farmers and nursing staff. But also, there is a greater acceptance that life has frayed edges. 

It is not perfect. We are trying to make do and mend.

Perhaps our truth is in the moments of greatest candour as we speak more openly about how we actually are. We are phoning family and friends, perhaps as much for ourselves, as to find out about others. We want to connect and to be connected. 

Or course we greatly hope that the fear of these days soon subsides. That people will feel safe once again to go on about ordinary things. But a great hope too, is that we do not lose all that we have gained in these days.   

In these days I have learned that even when I go to church to say the prayers, and no one is there, I pray anyway. Counting how many are present doesn’t take very long. 

And I have learned to see you, to remember you, to pray for you. 

To go on with the work of prayer even without you there.

May I not ever again measure the value of a ministry by how many are present.

I have learned also to accept that you might be afraid, or upset, or worried, or anxious. Sometimes the best I offer is to be quiet, and to listen, and to hear. Not everything can be fixed, or needs fixing. Sometimes accepting the frayed edges is what we both need. 

And for all that remains undone, other things have happened. 

I have rediscovered books from that bookshelf, which deserve another read.

Two writers who are my ‘go to’ are Corrie Ten Boom 

and Esther de Waal.

Esther’s writing has challenged me to think harder and more broadly, for many years. She challenges me because she is Anglican. Yet, her quiet ways, her profound insights are worth revisiting again and again. At the moment I’m rereading Lost In Wonder, a book compiled as a retreat. It is set to be read slowly, and in small pieces. She takes inspiration from the early church fathers, and mothers of the church. I smile as I read today, words quoted from an Benedictine monk…

‘I have had it with perfection

I have packed my bags

I am out of here. Gone.’

These set apart days have done much of that for us. 

Carrying on with our prayers, and family meals, and pastoral phone calls, and working on my good will, is itself achievement enough. Perfection be done.

And, from late childhood, I have loved the writing of the late Corrie ten Boom. Corrie survived Ravensbruck concentration camp, and went on for decades, in her work of sharing the Good News of Jesus, and His love for her and her family during those days and since.

I was thrilled to meet Pam Rosewell, Corrie’s nurse companion in her latter years, when she visited Co Fermanagh. 

Corrie’s faith was so simple, and so deep. 

She trusted Jesus as her Saviour, and followed Him as her Lord.

Her quiet trust belied a steely determination which saw her minister to many including the Queen of Holland. She comes to mind today, in this time of frayed edges, for her words about the Divine Weaver. 

I hope they encourage you.  

Life is but a Weaving Corrie ten Boom

My life is but a weaving

Between my God and me.

I cannot choose the colours

He weaveth steadily.

Oft’ times He weaveth sorrow;

And I in foolish pride

Forget He sees the upper

And I the underside.

Not ’til the loom is silent

And the shuttles cease to fly

Will God unroll the canvas

And reveal the reason why.

The dark threads are as needful

In the weaver’s skilful hand

As the threads of gold and silver

In the pattern He has planned

He knows, He loves, He cares;

Nothing this truth can dim.

He gives the very best to those

Who leave the choice to Him.