Threads and a heart beating.

If life was defined by threads (now, I don't mean like sewing thread, aha, think more in a figurative kind of way; more like weavings) I would have so many different ones. Decisions, future ideas, friends, circumstances, and countless other things would represent a thread flowing through my life. Some would be strong, some would be weak. Some were strong but because of the pull have began to tare. Mm. Some are covered in tears and some are bouncing with joy. Some are decorated with bright colors, some are neutral colors, sort of mundane, and some are dreary colors, hurt and struggling. Some are like solid rocks, while others change in an instant. Some would last through it all while others would come to an end, with a surprise or not. Some cause rug burn while others are like velvet. The thread didn't appear that it would cause rug burn in the beginning, and maybe it's intentions were never meant to cause such a terrible hurt, but the more the rain came and the more the lack of care was left unnoticed the thread began to soil and rot. Can it ever really become soft like velvet again? Maybe, maybe not. Some threads make you want to put them on such high pedestals. Some you put on without even realizing it. Your so busy enjoying it that you don't realize that you've begun to look up rather than at. You dance with the thread, laughing and enjoying the time with it, caring about it, without letting yourself realize that threads can change in an instant. As it begins to tare before your eyes you don't really know how to sew it back up. It hurts to see it fall but you know it has to. Still there are some that even though it's taring you still hold it up in place, refusing involuntarily to let it fall. You begin to realize that some don't fall on their own, some you have to ease off yourself. But it's hard because everyone else sees your thread and thinks it's all good and continues mentioning it and causing you to raise it back up, thinking about what it could be. But you know that it must ease off for anything good to come.

I guess I get carried away. I know I'm not the first in the world with the thread analogy but it applies to my life in so many ways the more I think about it. I guess that little bit up there could be about anything. It could be about dreams that seem great, failures, friendships, sin that don't seem like sin, anything. For me it applies in certain ways, for others it applies in others. Either way I realize that we are all similiar in this way. We have threads that are strong and threads that are weak. We keep certain threads close and others at an arms length. We sometimes have a hard time letting go of some threads and holding onto others.

There is a thread that is the thickest, strongest, most unbreakable thread running through it all. The colors change between three. It starts out a ragged old color not amounting to much holding wonder of why it is such a color. Then like paint being poured it turns to a shocking red. When it becomes crimson it takes a surprising turn into the most stunning, clean, brilliant, white ever imagined. Over and over it turns from those colors, a constant reminder. When it is a ragged old color it reminds me of when I didn't see, when I sometimes still don't see. It reminds me that what appears to be isn't always so. It may seem ragged to the naked eye but when you touch it, it's strength is there none the less. The red represents the shedding and the love that was poured out. It represents the cause that is worth dying for. It reminds me of the dying daily that I must do, the pouring out of myself so that I can become like dough, ready to be molded and shaped at any time. The white represents the power that was shown. It represents the peace that can surpass my understanding and the Will that can never be broken. It represents new birth and the courage to rise from the ashes and heal.

When I focus on that thread alone, and it becomes my heart beat, all the other threads seem to fade. I rejoice in the strong thick threads and pray over the ones that are a mystery or are torn. But they become second to this heart beat, this steady beat of changing colors. There is power in this thread and when it become my heartbeat and the pounding can be heard through it's core things happen. The threads that are the ones that are floating around aimlessly or the ones that are drifting steadily in a different direction but are still in my eyesight begin to hear the beat. It's different and it's loud, an irresistable sound. When I stop trying to cover up it's true power and hide behind threads that don't really matter it becomes apparent and refuses to be ignored. Mm, to grab on to this thread alone. To dance with this thread and to follow this thread would be the most rewarding experience ever. I see glimpses of what it could be like as I earnestly seek it's pounding. Let it be all I hear as I dance to it's beat. Mmm.