Half Made Whole

I love cutting snowflakes from paper, making doll chains, or any kind of paper cutting crafts. Ever since I was a little girl, I loved the concept of these half-shapes that turned into something glorious once unfolded. I'd cut half-stars, half-hearts, half-diamonds, and even half-swans. I'd cut jagged icicles, triangles, and squares, but only in part. The laws of symmetry took over after that.

No matter how much I tried to build the finished product in my mind, nothing could prepare me for that unfolding. It was always true: what I cut featured exact correspondences on the other side of the fold. Reflectional symmetry captivated me ever since.

I often remember a grade-school art project when we painted half the page, right up to a crisp fold. The teacher folded the other half on top of our paint, and we had a mirror image of our work when she unfolded it.

Something about this activity tapped into something important--some law--that made me so happy. I couldn't explain it, but I knew that God designed the world with symmetry in all things. Most everything I saw could be folded in half with one side matching the other.

Even then, I knew that every half could be made whole.

As I cut my snowflakes, I think of how one half-action here echoes fully into eternity. I think of how confusing cuts into my life will open up into something full and beautiful at the unfolding of time. I live in halves.

I know it part, but one day I will know in full. Paul reminds us in 1 Corinthians 13 that we know in part; we prophesy in part; we see only a reflection. But one day, we shall really see. One day, we shall fully know. It will all unfold in a glorious display.