Recently, I remembered a large tapestry I saw in Normandy, France when I visited in 1992. I kept thinking about the immense size and wonderfully hand crafted piece of art that was supposedly created by a queen and her handmaids while the king was out conquering. To refresh my dry rotted memory I did an Internet search and rediscovered the Bayeux Tapestry.
My trip to France was one of those student tours, twenty castles in 14 days. I was an adult chaperon for my son's sixth grade class, and my recollections are hazy at best. I remember a simple museum in a contemporary building that, I think, only housed this one enormous tapestry. Mounted on the wall it snaked for 230 feet (according to my sources). I remembered it wider than it's actual 20 inches, probably because it was encased in something and for good reason. The tapestry is actually an embroidered cloth handcrafted in the eleventh century (possibly by monks) to depict the 1066 Norman Invasion of England. Its age and size alone make it fascinating, but the spectacular stitching, which I do remember, tells the story complete with horses, noblemen, spears, armor, and Latin subtitles, definitely worth a look if you're ever in Bayeux, France, if not check out Wikipedia. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bayeux_tapestry Of course this doesn't do the magnificent artifact justice, but you get an idea.
My point to all this is my musings. I've been thinking about my life like a thread in Creations Tapestry. A single strand woven with millions of others, but together it produces a story. Sometimes my thread strings along the underside in the lower Story where the jumble of string and knots look messy, but once-in-awhile, I'm in the right place. My thread loops through to the top and shines gold (I hope), reflecting the magnificence it was meant to produce in the upper Story.