This tapestry is an investigation into how we hold one another in only “pockets of time” provided us. Similarly, and appropriately for this season, how we hold one another in only pockets of connection currently offered us.

The “Pockets of Time” tapestry is comprised of a series of “pockets” containing remnants of precious mementoes from my daughters’ first years. Blue and beige linen become the foundation for an exploration of knots, windows, and pockets using textile manipulation as a metaphor of stolen moments of time. “Hold you” is stitched across the face of the piece as an echo of what my daughter, Grace, would call out to me when seeking a “pocket” or more of my available time. My heart in this piece is an honoring of the struggle to best fulfill my daughters’ needs in this precious yet compressed season of my life.

The story behind the making…

When I was pregnant with our second daughter, Marielle, I began anticipating the valuable and costly demands of caring for and nursing a newborn. About this same time, my two year old daughter, Grace, when asking to be held would reach out to me with outstretched arms crying, “Hold you. Hold you. Hold you.” Interpreting her “toddler-ease,” I would then set down what was before me and attend to her needs. Aware that very soon an infant would be in my arms and I would, therefore, be less available to “hold you” upon request; I was conflicted with the joys of forthcoming life and the sadness of not “being enough” for everyone.

On a day of solitude used for prayer and meditation before her birth, I was questioning what I would do when my resources and reserves were not enough. A visceral realization that my time is finite; my resources are limited; and my person can only provide so much embrace when comfort is needed. In answer to my longing I sensed the Lord say to me, “I can hold you in pockets of time.” As an answer to my question came comfort knowing that my offerings would never be entirely enough for those I love. And yet they are all they need me to offer.

In the years since, I have discovered that even little pockets of time are rich with opportunity for connection. A brief but deep snuggle on the couch with my toddler, a stolen moment of conversation over an afternoon cappuccino with my love while the girls nap, an interrupted morning of solitude spent in creativity and prayer. All such moments are simply “pockets of time” and not nearly enough to fill the whole of a person but, oh how deep those pockets can be sewn in the tapestry of our lives.

In this time of limited shared connection and community, may we learn to hold one another well in the mere “pockets of time” and space provided us.

"Consider that wonderful world of life in which you are placed, and observe that its great rhythms of birth, growth, death-- all the things that really matter-- are not in your control. That unhurried process will go forward in its stately beauty, little affected by your anxious fuss."

from The House of the Soul and Concerning the Inner Life by Evelyn Underhill

At the beginning of this year, I found myself reflecting on the lives of those who have come, touched my life, left a mark, and have now passed. Some I never met personally but nonetheless impacted my person in the brevity of their years and the manner of their passing. Some I knew for years, were intimately involved in their lives and them in mine, watched as their health suffered then deteriorated, and was eventually left with only memories of their person instead of the shared daily rhythms of a life lived together.

To facilitate these reflections, I began stitching a ring for each year of life given each of them. Some ring cycles appeared cut short as if snuffed out before having a chance to realize one's identity or place in the larger sphere of life. Others stood dominant, clear of one's stance and mark made upon the world. Some lives appeared but as a breath; others reverberated out as a long drawn sigh. But whether fully realized or barely sketched, I'm confident of this: the impact they each made by their presence in the lives of those near and dear to them.

In this sitting for hours and hours, stitching rings, commemorating years (that, truth be told, often fly by uneventfully and mundanely), I am more aware than ever of the gift in each day. As Evelyn Underhill so eloquently states in the quote above, there is a futility in fuss and worry and there is a fragility in that which we cannot control-- namely, birth, growth, and inevitable death. There is a beauty in life's rhythms and a stately presence in the position in which we are all placed.

So then, there comes the reminder: to not lose the big picture in the distraction of the immediate. She continues, "Find out then where your treasure really is. Discern substance from accident... Don't lose your head over what perishes. Nearly everything does perish: so face the facts, don't rush after the transient and unreal. Maintain your soul in tranquil dependence on God..."

As is clear in the stitched rings of life, a year can indeed be a lifetime so why should I not aim to live as such? Each year with intention and gratitude, aware of grace and beauty, and set on tranquil dependence upon God.

And here is a video sharing my process, and my processing... with love, Erica