The Art of Weaving Beauty

Trent and Isabel Miller fidgeted nervously in their seats. How is everyone so calm? - thought Izzy. I want to explode! I think I’m going to be sick…

But there was no time for that - the lights grew dim, and the rink lit up with milky blue translucence. And then there was an angel gliding in, a silvery blue vision of Grace.

Their baby girl grown and gorgeous. Izzy flipped from nausea to heart-in-throat adrenaline instantly. In the background a violin drew out a single note, the elements of a grand performance began to merge and the auditorium grew silent, attention drawn to the solo slender figure dominating the rink.

Grace’s delivery was spectacular. She was so confident - so sure of every moment, every synchronised action of expression filled with exquisitely joyful poignance: How does she do it, every time, she tells a riveting story on skates! marvelled Izzy.

The music faded, the lights came back on and the audience flipped out. Grace Miller: darling of the rink.

Trent was waiting for Grace at the rink exit with her kit, her Papa dependably there to guide her through the chaos of stage door clamour. Their routine was flawless also, and he never failed to walk her through the pressing fans without engaging. His sheer size and presence helped - nobody was willing to cross the Father of Grace!

Izzy stood by the car waiting for them - boot open to stash Grace’s bags, and usually a trophy. Izzy thought back to the first time she knew that Grace had a gift beyond anything she could have imagined…

*

Winters meant skating on the frozen lake in the valley far beneath their farm plateau. The path through the forest was a fair hike, and so they made a full day of these excursions. When Grace was little, she begged every morning for a skate day. Izzy giggled like the young woman she was back then at the memory - those wilful tantrums had Gracie’s parents on the ropes sometimes. But such a passionate love of anything could not go unfulfilled, and so winters gravitated around the frozen lake, and expanded to the ponds that lay like pearls along the frozen river’s path.

Grace loved those ponds. She and Trent would hike together, skates slung over her shoulders, and each pond earned a name and reputation for the new move that she perfected there. Trent would sit and watch her, spellbound. He would set out with every intention of attending to his textbooks but they always returned with the books untouched - so mesmerising were Grace’s impromptu performances.

Izzy largely missed out on these excursions - she held the fort on the farm with Toby, Ann-Marie and Jethro, who rolled their eyes at their sister’s addiction to ice.

So in the winter when Grace was eleven, and they were celebrating the ninth year of her adoption into the Miller family, they all trooped down to the lake for a skate day together. Trent had told Izzy nothing - but he watched her closely as Grace glided out onto the ice, and became something else altogether...

Izzy caught her breath.

There was nothing to say.

She turned to her husband open mouthed and wide eyed, and he smiled and nodded. “Right? I didn't know how to tell you - you had to see for yourself.”

Grace. Angel on Ice. Natural exquisite fluidity melted her to be one with a flow that existed only in the imagination; the place where all is effortless and every motion a sheer joy of expression. The children all stopped and watched, spellbound also, but not quite sure why…

What was it about Grace skating that suspended time, that wrapped the soul in beauty?

“I think this is the closest to pure Divinity I will ever get,” murmured Trent.

Maybe that was it. The unity of human and divine…

And so that day led to this day. The years had not been easy - it was not safe for Grace to skate on the lake alone, and practice took time, with hiking down into the valley. But they muddled along, each wintery day bringing its challenges with snowfalls and sniffles, teenagers and studies, farm chores and feeding the family.

Just when things were settling into an accepted flow, Izzy fell pregnant with a surprise. They didn't think that this pregnancy would carry to term either, but at nine months, she delivered a beautiful baby boy and the family welcomed their first biological Miller - Ashton. Tracy followed two years later, at which time Izzy and Trent decided that six children was their family complete.

*

The years have been so good to us, thought Trent. Toby studying environmental engineering and Ann-Marie travelling with her pop-up surgery through Asia. The little ones - Jethro, Ashton and Tracy - were waiting with Izzy’s Dad at home for a call on news of tonight’s performance.

“Dad, she was spectacular, of course. There was just no competition - she cleaned the board…. Yes, she will be out of the shower in a minute - GRACE! They all want to talk to you!…”

Trent was already dressed for the Championship’s dinner, and he sat watching his girls chatting on the phone. He thought back to the night when they had first discussed adoption - they had just lost Madeleine.

And suddenly he caught his breath as he remembered that he had dreamed this moment that very night, the night that Izzy had first mentioned the idea of adopting. The dream was vivid, returning to him now: Izzy with her arm around a beautiful girl's waist, their daughter, a champion. He recalled shrieks of laughter from the telephone born of celebration...

You cannot tell me that there is no plan for life, he thought. The pattern of his own life played out - from a difficult childhood start, he had learned everything he needed to know about making the best of what came his way. He embraced beauty when he saw it, shunned that which did not serve him. He actively and stubbornly wove goodness into his fabric, and weeded out the strands that he did not love. Stubbornly, he had chosen his joy and the joy of his family, every time and at every opportunity.

Sitting here tonight, the knowledge landed that he had chosen to weave a tapestry that was good. Very good.

And he was happy about that.

To be a champion, noted Trent the Philosopher, simply follow your joy.