can unraveled life threads be woven into beauty again?
My maternal grandma is dying of cancer. Two years ago, she was given six months to live.
She never knew me.
Relations between my grandma and my mom remained strained since I was in grade school. Two months ago, she was trying to find my mom “to say ‘I love you’.” They reconnected. Soon after, my mom prodded me, saying, “Archer, she would love to hear from you. Please call her, here’s her number…”.
I sat on my mom’s request for days. Here I was, the grand child she never knew, and my mom was asking me to call her. I didn’t even know how to pronounce or spell her last name. It would have been easy to shrug off my mom’s poking and think, “She should call me!”.
I have known many years of grief at too early of an age. After having worked through much of that, I’m desperate for the tiniest anything that can shine the faintest glimmer of redemption on all the years of sorrow. The redemption I crave, it’s a life redemption, something that brings goodness and hope out of a botched up past. God has redeemed much in my life already, so much that I gave my first daughter a name that means “to sew redemption.”
Redemption, it heals me, and I can’t let its invitation pass me by, however small that it is. Even though the bitter years have blinded mortals, and I have to go out of my way to read the redemptive summons, if this is all the redemption I have left to gather, may my net be large and its holes be little, so that I may receive every morsel of it. And may I sew it and stitch it and darn it, everywhere I go.
I called my grandma.
Where do you need to sew redemption in your life? Where can you sew something together that was once torn apart?
Enjoy More Archerfriendliness
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