God’s Rich Tapestry

God’s Rich Tapestry (c)

By Michael Casey

Well, I forced myself out of bed, I need more sleep but I thought I’d 

try and get up. So here I am post toast and coffee, my normal 

breakfast and I had an idea so this is what you are getting. 

What use am I to you or anybody? Then I checked my readers list 

today, over 10 countries reading my rubbish. So, do you all like to

use my rubbish as toilet paper? Print off a story then pick a stall and 

away you go, and I thought only Donald Trump toilet paper was 

popular. Though he’d probably added my email address to all kinds of 

rubbish, Welsh in Welsh was a strange one I had yesterday. I can

remember Keith Jackson having an email from himself, 30 years ago

was it? That was before technology got really clever. So, what I get 

now is even more annoying, and gets deleted unread. Hello to KJ by 

the way, he must be 10 years older than me.

So where does this take us? Well, we all have our place in the 

pecking order, obviously I was locked up in the computer room for

 21 years at Stats, escaping and then marrying finally. Every person

has their place their worth, even if you didn’t realise it till afterwards.

Why is it so quiet, where is that annoying person, Michael, I’ll say it

before Mark H, says it and laughs at his own joke.

Where is Skid and his Marks, and so on and so forth. We all have a 

value, even if we don’t know it at the time. What use am I, I am an

 Old  Woman, is a story of mine, I can see Mark H, now pulling a

 face as, he says yes that’s Michael.

I hope I’ve surprized people from that old crew from long ago, but 

never forgotten. A collection of people make a whole, any group of 

people are a jigsaw, a mosaic, a tapestry. When the gossip goes, there

is a gap, gossip is the chattering cement that holds a society 

together, a phrase from The Butcher, The Baker and The Undertaker.

Look around your street, your family, you friends, your team,

 whatever game you play, or your knitting circle, or your prayer 

group, even if the bar is your place of worship. Everybody has a 

task, even if it is to lay out the chairs, or drop and bolt in the extra 

place at the end of the pew in a church. Yes, churches used to be that

full, at Saint Patrick’s we use to have extra drop seats down the 

middle, I know because I got them ready while my brother always 

got the altar servers list, which never changed.

Then there is the guy who miraculously survived something over 

the road at Dudley Rd hospital, who runs the piety stall, little wonder

There are the unsung heroes, the cleaners in any place, I know as I 

always used to work the late shift, so they were my friends. The 

things they know, and the things they discover, such as half full

 coffee cups in a bin. I could mention other discoveries in the middle

of the night, but I’ll leave the dead rest.

The sandwich lady you fear, as she always needs a man to come and

fix a shelf for her, you’d starve without her.  The crossings lady who

saved your life by knocking you over with her pole. Even the barber

whose “something for the weekend, sir?” also saved your life, and

 health in many many ways, many many times. But not as many as

you boasted about. And when the barbers was closed, you took a

 chance, so Chancy Gardinier was your first child, named after the

unexpected film and thereafterwards, no barber’s something for the

weekend included.

Look around in any life, in any story, or History itself, which is all our lives. What do you see, this led to that, or just unknowingly. You married the cleaner, but she was really a rich heiress, I married a cleaner too, but she did have a degree, and the rest is History. Our lives, our loves, what we like, what we love, all of this is a tapestry. An accident, either of nature or of life itself, can lead to many many things. Your dad nearly died, you visited him for 3 straight years in the seniors home, and you married his nurse. Whatever happens in life, it forms us, it directs us, like a mudslide down a hill, it can be dangerous, it can be exciting, but it changes our internal landscape.  So, look around and connect, little chats here, little looks and glances, read, watch, observe. Then your life will be heard, you’ll be the colourful bit in the tapestry, you might even be the centrepiece. You don’t need to battle in Hastings, nor an arrow in your eye, just look up, look around, look to the sky. Look at the birds flying, look at the patterns they weave in the sky. Then try to be a bird, and make your life heard, for a life is more than a twitter.

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