A reflection on day 3- meeting the women weavers
Updated: Sep 22, 2019
Prose by: Mitchell Skowbo
Wednesday, May 22
I bought a handmade blanket today from one of the women weavers. This wasn’t just any blanket made in a factory, or even done by an average person weaving as a hobby. This blanket was made by a woman who had lost her home due to violence. She may have seen family die, may have been abused, and may have lost her sense of self. With the help of the Lord and with women just like her, she was able to find her way through her work, weaving.
Her incredible hands wove each thread of the blanket. These same hands may have cared for children, making sacrifices in order to feed them, dressing them, and holding them close to her as they cried. Her hands may have tended wounds from the violent gang or government attacks that scar those that are lucky to survive. Her same hands may have scrounged for food in the farm fields at night, as she may have taken nothing with her as she abandoned all her belongings back in her seized village.
Her glistening eyes helped her choose the colors of the blanket, arranging them carefully. Each and every thread an individual strand bound together by only her eye’s judgement on where they should be woven. Only God knows what her eyes have seen in her lifetime; birth, death, fear, sadness, love, peace, or maybe hope.
It may just be a blanket in the end, but this blanket as well as her other woven crafts have given her purpose, a community, and a means in which to support herself and her children. The other women are just like her, all having diverse stories, but yet sharing the same conclusion of fleeing their homes. Yet, they have a new home that they have woven together through their craft.
Somehow I was able to buy something priceless today, and for that I am humbled.