My mother-in-law saved string--all colors and thicknesses. She untangled it, knotted it and wound it into a big ball. The strings from the tops of sugar and flour bags as well as feed sacks were saved separately to be crocheted into doilies, armchair protectors, shawls, tablecloths and more. The multi-colored ones she wound into a separate ball to be used as twine to truss a turkey, wrap and tie a package or bundle, tie the ends of ponytails and so one. She never wasted anything and she made do with what she had on hand. String was always ready to unravel as needed.
That is what my life and my story are like. Made up of bits of string, many too short to use and others too long to toss. Most of the knots are so conspicuous that a long section of string is almost impossible to find.
The knots represent the hard times, and there have more than a few. Though they outweigh the smooth stretches of my life they are the ones that have blessed me with the opportunities to develop strength and character and for that I am grateful. Some of the knots are large enough to get in the way while other lengths of string are stretched to the limit and barely hanging on by a thin, frayed fiber. My goal is to piece them together in such a way to tell the story of my my life and the lessons learned.
Some threads are coarse, rough and tough. Others are fragile and delicate. Some are pure white, others a dingy yellow-gray and others as colorful as a rainbow or sparkly as sunlit dew. The former remind me of the times I have been blessed with the strength and courage to endure hardships and trials that have befallen me or a loved.
The latter are reminders of the occasions when it was I who needed to uplifted and encouraged by others; when my own resolve and determination were not quite sufficient to see me through. The colors tell stories in and of themselves. How often can we relate to the dull and dingy bits? The moments when I relate to the pure white ones are few but the colorful bits and pieces remind me of other bright spots in my life: my 55 year marriage to my best friend, a college grade point of 4.0, successes in home and family including two children, five grandchildren and ten great-grandchildren, my conversion and relationship with my Savior and a myriad of others too numerous to boast of.
On the other hand, the dingy, coarse or darkened ones represent the depths of despair and discouragement we each are forced to embrace: the death of a loved one, chronic illness, job loss, cancer, heartache for a wayward family member, devastating house fire, losing my spouse to dementia and the untimely death of my only son to name a few.
If these bits and pieces of various textured and colored strings were woven into a tapestry of my life, how would they look? I have seen the underside of a piece of embroidery work. At times, that is what my life has looked like; a confused jumble of unrelated items, knots and gnarls and lack of a coherent pattern that make little sense. But, then the time comes to look at the other side, the top. Amazingly enough, as I near the end of my earthly journey, it begins to come together. The picture becomes not only clear but beautiful and even glorious to behold. Life is an art and our tapestry is our artwork. When the going is tough, remember that we too often gaze upon the wrong side of our life's tapestry. We cannot view the whole picture yet we we can imagine the beauty of it by putting in a little effort.
Yes, often the pieces of string create gigantic knots in our lives. There have been many enormous knots in mine, but hopefully they are the very ones that have created within me the strength and character that now define my true self. Without the knots and tangles, would I be the individual of faith and optimism that I am? It is doubtful. Just remember that the Son shines down on the topside of our tapestry. Look to Him and the Light through that jumbled up mess on our side.
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