The Purple Threads in Our Lives

It's a cold December morning, and I feel the desire to wrap myself in a blanket all day long.  Since that's not possible, I don the closest companion: my favorite Fred Meyer khaki-colored poncho.  And then the crazy morning routine happens: first kid to the school bus, second kid's diaper changed, and the third kid driven to school.  I arrive home in time to dress the second kid, light the Christmas tree, and put the tea kettle on the stove for my small group (aka heart friends) who will soon be walking through my door.  

Breakfast forgotten.
Husband traveling.
Dog a muddy mess.
Dishes all over.
Trip over the balance beam in the middle of our living room. 
Laundry pile staring vehemently.
Toddler potty training. 

Friends arrive.  So glad these are "come as you are" friends in my imperfect life, but yet I realize more and more with time that real life is so much grittier and more beautiful than anything else.  It's truly freeing that my house, and more importantly my life, doesn't have to be perfect.  Because, really, what does that mean anyways? People are knocking on the doors of our life.  

Let them in for crying outloud!

And somehow in the midst of the craziness, life calms.  Being in the presence of these women who listen, care and love well fills my soul and helps carry me through.  It's a priority for our lives, and it's an hour-and-a-half well spent to refocus, pray, and support one another.  

The last friend leaves, and the toddler requires a nap.  I place her peacefully in her crib, and on my way tiptoeing out of her room, my poncho catches the door knob.  My body lurches backwards towards the door, and "Dang it!" comes out in an obnoxious whisper.  

I release myself from the entrapment of the door knob and examine the snare it caused.  
Only to find among the thousands of khaki-colored weavings is one:

PURPLE THREAD

Misplaced.
Misaligned.
Misinformed.
Missed.
Doesn't make sense.

I grumble at why anyone would put a purple thread in the midst of this poncho and look for a way to cut it out.  But...then...I start thinking about why it's there:
Beauty.
Color.
Purpose.  

My whole poncho will unravel without this Purple Thread.  As much as we don't think we need the Purple Thread in our lives and grumble about it, we do.  We don't want to face our disappointment, anxiety, addiction, loss, parenting struggles, betrayal, health issues, jealousy, or whatever it may be.  

We want it to disappear.  We want to cut it out of our story. 

But we can't.  It is part of us.  

As Solomon writes, "He has made everything beautiful in its time.  He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end" (Ecclesiastes 3:11).

It's not in our time to know when and how God will use this, but He will (and maybe is using it even now!).  It reminds me of one of my dearest friends: as a tender, ten-year-old she tragically lost her daddy.  Her hero.  I met her when we were both 18, and she allowed me on her journey of grief, healing, redemption, and purpose. And now she speaks about this to others whose story is similar, encouraging little, vulnerable hearts to keep pressing forward and trusting God's plan for your life even when life doesn't make sense.  Everything IS beautiful in its time. 

 

Embrace the Purple Thread.  

Look on it with grace and joy.  

God wants to redeem those places.  

And know that in the midst of whatever trial, whatever challenge, there's always something to be thankful for.  

Maybe you can't see past today.  And that's okay.  I get it.  I've been there, and will probably be back there again. At this moment, I stare at the beauty, and I'm grateful for dear ones in my life who embrace their Purple Thread and teach me to do the same.  We are not meant to do this life alone.

Maybe the Sewer took the sharp needle and that Purple Thread kicked and screamed, tried to run away, and didn't want to be part of the poncho.  Or maybe It was too tired, limp, and too deep in a hole that saw little hope.  But the hands that reached down, delicately picked up the Purple Thread, and crafted each pull and push of the needle knew the importance, the significance, and the magnitude. Your Purple Thread intricately matters, and the Sewer sees the beauty, color, and purpose.  Rest in His hands as He weaves your story back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.