Daily Read #11: Fruit of the Loom

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I have weaved. or is it woved? or is it weaven? or woven? Whatever it is I've done it-- weaved/woved/weaven/woven on a loom where you pass a shuttle of thread back and forth as you step down on pedals that moves sets of threads up and down creating an interlocking textile. And I'm not talking about some 2 minute exhibit at a history museum. I mean I've sat down and made a rug. Doesn't that make me sound terribly ethnic? Where was this memory when I was writing personal statements for college?

Though I couldn't claim to be a weaver, I would imagine that few in my demographic can make a similar boast of such an accomplishment. My grandma is a weaver and actually has a loom in her house and no she doesn't live in a village in a hut nor does she sit outside with the fruits of her loom and haggle with tourists over the price of her wares.

Henry Ward Beecher would argue that I'm not so special after all and that everyone of us is weaving. “We sleep, but the loom of life never stops, and the pattern which was weaving when the sun went down is weaving when it comes up in the morning.”

I'm just now getting to the point where I have had enough stages and seasons in my life to begin to see the pattern emerging from life's loom. Colors and textures appear and disappear creating designs of momentary interest but that don't seem significant until later when they are repeated. [Does someone have a gong that they could wack with every period or maybe a harp or a tambourine that they could strum or shake in the background of this stream of metaphoric prose?] At times what we expected to be only a narrow strip becomes a color block and other threads run out before we think we're ready to move on. Some colors seem inescapably pervasive--once introduced they seem to give everything that follows a particular hue or sheen.

Everyone's life is so much more interesting, more significant than they would think. Sitting at your own loom of life it's inevitable for what's always before us to become mundane particularly when we get a glimpse at what someone else is creating or has already woven. I had that envious thought tonight talking with Ryan on the phone. [Believe it or not I do occasional do my due diligence and fact check my stories and events.]

It is very common for young men in our church to spend two years serving a mission as a representative of our faith, as anyone who knows a Mormon probably already knows. Each mission is of similar length and purpose but each has a very unique development and design [insert continuation of rug metaphor here]. A guy can talk about their mission* like a woman can talk about a pregnancy or delivery *[yes I know that some women are fortunate enough to have both experiences of mission service and childbearing at their conversational disposal, frightening that one person could yield such power. Heaven be thanked sisters don't have babies while on their missions...now that would be nuclear].

I've talked to Ryan about his mission on several occasions sometimes in more depth than others. Tonight as he shared some more specific about different parts of his life particularly related to his mission, instead of a feeling of singularity there was a feeling of interconnectedness. Ryan's mission was far from being an isolated event rather there have been threads before and after that were both premonition and continuation of his mission's service.

Ryan tells that a decision to serve a mission was far from being determined until about the time he went to boot camp. Ryan left for boot camp about 3 months after graduation from High School. He went alone or atleast ended up alone--the only member of our church, which anyone who didn't grow up in small town Utah would have difficulty envisioning how exposed and alone this would make an 18 year old feel.

I would imagine that one reason why they call it boot camp is because of the reality that if you fall out of line they will quickly boot you back in. Individual identity is discouraged and Ryan for the first couple of weeks was bound and determined not to draw attention to any aspect of himself that was unique, none of which was likely more unique than his faith. Consequently he had purposefully avoided any outward appearances that would mark him as LDS.

Several weeks from when he arrived, a friend sent him a postcard size reminder of what he was denying himself through his self-imposed distance from his faith.


For those of you without eagle eye vision the caption shares a scripture from John 14:18 that read, I will not leave you comfortless, I will come to you. Ryan knew that not only was he strong-arming back the love of his Savior he also was not living up to his personal responsibility to stand as a witness of Christ at all times and in all places. He said that this was the beginning of a paradigm shift where he realized it would be impossible to isolate the service for his country from the service for his God. Where before there may have been doubts that missionary service should be part of his life's journey now there was a sense of certainty and indebtedness.

Ryan returned for a semester of school and also began his missionary papers. Once they were submitted naturally friends and family began the 'Where in the world'guessing game. During which a particular friend guessed that he would go to Canada. Ryan said that that guess seemed different from the others, seemed right. Ryan would ultimately be called to the Montreal Quebec Mission-French speaking.

[Now nothing against the French but it has always been hard for me to combine my knowledge of Ryan's military background and his speaking of French. I mean Napoleon spoke French so at some point the two weren't quite as distant as they seem now, but for some reason, French conjours up images of Pepé La Pew, rather than G.I. Joe. Any agree?]

But there were several instances as Ryan talked about his mission where I felt there were threads of incidence that would be connected to his post-mission Guard missions.In his first area he taught an young Iraqi woman. Ryan said that even then in the back of his mind as a Guardsman there was the thought that he could have later interaction with her country of origin. I think that it was fitting for Ryan to have these early positive interactions with Iraqi's and muslims in general. Where many servicemen's perceptions and interactions with the people of that part of the world are one dimensional, Ryan's been able to look through lenses* of moderation [purposeful reminder to vote] that were tempered by the depth of his mission experience.

Ryan said that if he were to define a single take away point from his mission experience it would be the reassurance of or confidence in the goodness of humanity. His time in Canada was quite multicultural the effect of which was likely only heightened by being from Richfield a place not known for its diversity. Canada gave him real world affirmation of his future mother-in-law's mantra, 'There are good people everywhere you go' and a surprising degree of goodness in most people you will meet. I'm quite confident Ryan's been able to take this lesson and incorporate it into his interactions with the world as a guardsman.

Ryan was also blessed to be sent to a mission where there wasn't a single language identity and he was able to teach and preach the gospel in both English and French. He said while it was frustrating to just be getting to a point where he was feeling comfortable with the language and then be transferred to a non-French area but in retrospect he's grateful for the experience and practice of teaching and testifying in his own language. These English experiences have had in many ways a much longer shelf-life and more direct application since he returned much of which has been related to the Guard.

That's not to say that Ryan hasn't had language opportunities since he returned. A trip to Zion is all that it takes to find most European languages.* *[Granted you have to be able to maintain eye contact while speaking to someone who is rocking extremely short shorts and a chest/midriff exposing tankini top and fanny pack of alarming girth]. Ryan said he also was able to explain to French speakers that wandered into the crowd of a demolitian derby what exactly was going on.

Where if before there had been distinct color blocks in Ryan's rug [and hopefully it's clear that I wouldn't agree he was ever privileged (or should it be victim) to such isolation] some of the most prominent colors and textures of previous life events all came together when Ryan was able to go on a short National guard mission to Morocco* in 2008, 2 years following the activation in Iraq. Many people reading this likely don't know that Morocco while very much an Arabic influenced country has a prominent French language undercurrent. Ryan was selected to go on this training mission because of his French ability. *[This may or may not be what triggered the rug thing; I'll be the first to admit it's one of the only things I know about Morocco, it was either rugs or Casablanca. Haven't seen Casablanca so wouldn't have carried me very far].

From the sounds of it the trip was certainly a trifecta. From my own experiences, a mission language is inextricably tied to service as a missionary, so to be speaking French with the national guard in a predominately Arab country was likely a very strange blend of past lives. I think in every way it could be considered mission accomplished: brush up on French [missionaries are quite limited in their ability to carry out war games], serve his own country through strengthening an ally, and have interactions of goodwill rather than war with people of Arab descent.

Ryan had a fantastic time and I hope that he has a chance to go back. I think anytime you can have such a blantantly obvious lesson in the interconnectedness of our life's choices and experiences it's a good reminder that we should all be living with our hearts and eyes wide open. Yesterday, today, and tomorrow are not as different nor far apart as we often think them to be.

Ryan thank you for the reminder of our individual responsibilities for service both to our country and our God. For someone so horrifically nearsighted, I'm quite impressed by your ability to weave.

Vote for Ryan. He deserves it more everyday. Hopefully you agree.

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For those whose Sunday Schedule has room for even more metaphor:

"The Plan of the Master Weaver"
Author Unknown

Our lives are but fine weaving
That God and we prepare,
Each life becomes a fabric planned
And fashioned in His care.

We may not always see just how
The weaving intertwines,
But we must trust the Masters hand
And follow His design.

For He can view the pattern
Upon the upper side,
While we must look from underneath
And trust in Him to guide.

Sometimes a strand of sorrow
Is added to His plan,
And though it's difficult for us,
We still must understand.

That it's He who fills the shuttle
It's He who knows what's best,
So we must weave in patience
And leave to Him the rest.

Not till the loom in silent
And the shuttles cease to fly,
Shall God unroll the canvas
And explain the reason why.

The dark threads are as needed
In the Weaver's skillful hand,
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned.