Loose Threads

Our lives are often referred to in song and poetic verse as being canvases woven with threads. Today I wondered how strong of a weaver I am in my kids' lives, and if others are strong enough to pull out the threads I am so carefully pulling through the loom of their childhood.

I know I am not, nor will I be, the perfect parent. But I am trying to be the best parent I believe I can be. And I know that if nothing else, I am trying to impart to my children those things in life I hold dear, the things I believe to be of utmost importance; the true things in life. I am trying to raise well-rounded, healthy kids with a zeal for life and for learning. With confidence in themselves, in their family, and in God.

But not everyone would choose the same color of threads that I (and my husband) choose. Not everyone would weave the same design that we've chosen. And unfortunately, some may even tug at those precious threads and begin to unravel the very design that we are trying to build...even if not intentionally. And I wonder if it will hold, or if it can be repaired if it ever gets torn.

I think about the opposite reality in many lives. Canvases woven with pain, lies, letdowns. And people try to come and repair with love, kindness, forgiveness. But we remain tattered and town, unable or unwilling to change. If a negative thread is so strong, is it possible that the positive threads I'm weaving will remain just as strong?

I hope so.

Because today, like so many other times when we are together, I wondered what kind of influence my children's' grandparents have over them. I have heard that grandparents are in a unique position to pass on a heritage rich with God's blessings and truths. But what if the grandparents don't pass on blessings, but cursings? How do I protect against that? Will their unhealthy habits, their belief in ungodly things, their misunderstandings of the worthiness of all people...will these unravel the threads that I have already started to weave? Can two hours of time undue hours, days, or months of training and demonstration?

I hope not.

For those wondering, my in-laws aren't your typical in-laws in that they just rub me the wrong way sometimes. They do...but that's not what bothers me. What bothers me is some bad habits, and worse, some wrong beliefs. I won't slam them on here because that's not my point. I want to, in a way. The part of me that is human and wants people to see what I am dealing with. To those raised in a sheltered home like me, some of the stuff I would tell you would literally sound unbelievable. To those raised like my husband, if may sound embarrassingly normal. And to all in between, you might have your opinion, but until you've been there, you'll never really know.

I always thought I could keep my kids away from certain evils for at least much of their childhood. But the moment my daughter was born, I realized that I can never keep her away from the enemy...for they are her family. I would have kept her from language, alcohol, and smoke. I would have kept her away from ideas that go completely against the word of God, I would have kept her out of possible danger from the law and strangers who should never have known her. But I can't. They are her family, and I don't know what to do. I pray. I hope. I don't take her there often. Sometimes I wish they'd go too far and I could draw a line. Sometimes I wish I could close my eyes and make it all go away. Make his family "decent" if not Christian. I'd take the first without the second, knowing the second is always possible. But right now it's a miracle, and a pretty impressive one should it happen.

I thank God daily that my husband changed. But I wonder to God daily why his family is so different. And I prayed today that the threads I'm weaving into my children's lives are strong enough and protected by God so that when the enemy comes in, whether the wolf or the wolf in sheep's clothing, that they will not be able to shred apart their canvases. But instead that maybe they'd see the design being built. The beauty of it, the innocence of it, the truth of it. Maybe they'll wonder about their own tattered canvases. And maybe, just maybe, I can tell them that they, too, can have beautiful threads again. New threads. Different threads. Threads made from the cleanest wool, made pure by the blood of Christ.

I hope so.