On Lace.

We took a much-needed trip to the temple last night. I sat staring for a few minutes at the lovely handmade lace that you always seem to see in temples. I have always said that I would make a terrible artist because I'm not patient enough; I never want to put in the time to perfect all of the details - that doesn't seem particularly relaxing to me. That's why I don't sew with pins or patterns, I don't draw or paint, I don't crochet or cross-stitch anymore, and I can hardly even bring myself to scrapbook. I can't seem to produce any patience in addition to what I'm required to exert on a daily basis.

But as I sat there I thought that I should regain an appreciation for what can be created by patient attention to detail, because (like most things around us) that lace seemed to be a metaphor for life. We do one stitch or loop or tiny section at a time, but we don't get to see how the whole tapestry will fit together--or appreciate the fullness of its beauty--until we look back on how everything connects together. And the beauty of the entire piece is enhanced because we know all of the stitches and loops and pieces that produced it and can appreciate the effort that it required with satisfaction. That is part of the joy of creation - the process.