A twisted tree branch, or perhaps the remains of a root. No matter which, it gets us thinking about the story of this one piece of wood, now disconnected from its original purpose.
The weaving of the elements in the photograph will prompt each of us to make our own story and try to make sense of what we see.
It speaks of our lives and our stories and our hopes and our fears and in the midst of it all, our faith, which is unique to each of us. It also speaks of chaos and randomness, which is part of the mix. At the heart of it all, the Creator of all holds it in the self giving love that never ends.
Nothing is lost in the skill of the weaver. Love is eternal.
Musings 