The view from my loom is my small back yard - my cloister garden, I call it…

It seemed odd to be weaving vestments on this day when all of the altars are stripped bare.  Tomorrow they will be ablaze with white, but today, surrounded by vigilants in silent prayer, the altars - wood for the cross or stone for the tomb - are not softened with any fabric.  

The most beautiful rainbows I ever saw were at Bryce Canyon National Park. My family was camping during the summer monsoon season. Most days the afternoon thunder showers would provide welcome relief from the heat of the day. But this day the rain started early and kept on steadily.

Sometimes I pray when I weave. Sometimes I sing. Sometimes I hold weird, random conversations with myself. Like this…

Today I started weaving the purple Star of Bethlehem stole. It seems appropriate on this day to weave in the color of prayer and penitence.