This morning, I decided to wear my bird necklace to Meeting. The necklace has six strands of tiny abalone birds. My grandmother gave it to me over 25 years ago, and so it has special meaning for me.
Through a process I don't understand, the strands of the necklace become tangled around one another. Every so often, I have to untangle them as best I can. I hold the necklace by one clasp and gently work the strands smooth. The birds catch on one another, and the necklace is somewhat delicate, so I have to work slowly and carefully. Working one end free tangles the end by the other clasp, so I have to turn the necklace upside-down and repeat the process. Which tangles the first side again, although not so badly as it was originally. After several repeats, the necklace is almost tangle-free. I've never managed to work all of the tangles out, but it gets close.
So, necklace mostly untangled, I headed off to Meeting.
There are many knotty problems before me, both in Meeting and in my personal life.
I put these problems before God as I settled into worship and waited for guidance.
The image of a long strand of the necklace working free came to my mind. Each of the problems I faced, I suddenly saw, would benefit from the slow, gentle approach that I use to untangle the necklace. I would have to work the strands of these problems free slowly, one bit at a time. Likely there would be other snags in the process of working through the problems, and I might have to turn things upside-down a few times before I could work things out. Even then, the problems probably wouldn't be fully solved. There would still be a few small tangles in them.
Once solved, however, I'd have a bridge of birds to hang around my neck, a tangible link between the past and the future, a lovely thing worthy of the care it demands.