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It’s a cold rainy night and somewhere in the darkness a little girl sits alone. Although she’s not really a little girl anymore, she still feels like one. The pain gave way to numbness a long time ago. But every once in while a small glimmer of emotion tries to make its way out into the open. But she’s grown too wise to allow those little glimmers to see the light of day. Numbness is better than pain. At least that’s what she used to think. She’d grown up in such a different world than the eye is accustomed to seeing. What had been normal for her and her family would be considered so perverse to anyone else…that is if they could see behind the veil of secrecy.
The girl’s life hadn’t started out this way. When she had been a young girl, her first memories surround the dress her momma had given her…the swirl-around dress she had called it because she could spin around in an impromptu pirouette and watch as the skirt would lift in flight to her dance of joy. Along with the dress, her good memories would be consumed with the little doll her grandmother made for her and had presented to her on her 5th birthday. The plastic body of the doll was only about 12 inches tall with rosy red cheeks and beautiful, long auburn hair. The eyes would close when she laid the doll down and open when the doll was placed in an upright position. Clothed in a simple dress and slippers, the doll also wore a plain white apron. What drew one’s attention to the apron was the single golden thread that seemed to make its way through the material like a gently meandering stream around the edges of the little piece of cloth adding just the right amount of glitter to a very inconspicuous little toy.
When her grandmother had given her the doll, she had told her to remember that whenever she felt a little sad or lonely to keep in mind that the doll was given by someone who loved her very much…and she challenged the little girl to never forget the golden thread that ran through the apron. That thread was to represent hope…and just as this thread ran it’s simple course through the cloth, hope would always be there running through the fabric of her life. A rather weighty concept for such a little girl, but she had never forgotten her grandmother’s words. To help seal this in the little girl’s heart, her grandmother had taught her this song.
Did you know that someone loves you?
Loves you lavishly!
Loves you more than the whole wide world
That someone is me!
When you fall, I’ll pick up the pieces
When you hurt I’ll bind up your wound
When you’re alone or afraid
I’ll be right where you are
And I love you
Yet here she was, so many years later, the song having faded and been tucked away somewhere in the far recesses of her memory. Alone. Abandoned. Afraid. Worn out and weary from simply trying to survive. Hopeless. Packed somewhere in the one frayed bag holding all her worldly belongings was the doll she had come to call ‘Hope’. Her life in no way could be categorized as hopeful. Through the series of events she called her life, hope was the last thing that ever came to mind. Having had her hope crushed so many times by so many people in so many ways had led her to the place where pain gives way to the only reality she had come to know. Her mind could take no more…so she had become more of a walking dead person than a living human being.
She had grown so bitter at the words of her own grandmother…that hope would be running through the fabric of her life. At times she had wanted to crush the little doll…or burn it…or just get it away from her consciousness. But for some reason, she had never been able to let go. By now the doll’s little dress had become quite frayed and the golden thread had faded to dull brown. And along with the faded song, the doll had come to represent some other reality…some other world…for some other person. Long ago, whenever hope was still alive in her heart, she had become so accustomed to rejection and abandonment that she had actually changed the words to her grandmother’s song. So whenever the memory of that song had been stirred she could comfort herself with words that reflected what she had come to accept as normal.
Is anybody out there?
Can anybody see
That who I am on the outside
Is really not me?
When I fall who will pick up the pieces?
When I hurt who will bind up my wound?
When I’m alone or afraid
Will anybody be there?
I’d like to know who…
Reaching the underside of a bridge on this rainy stretch of road, she threw her bag to the ground and sat there. Nowhere to go. No one to talk to. As far as she knew, there was no one who even knew – or cared – that she existed. If only she could start a fire, maybe the glow of the flame would lift her spirit and at least warm her body. Groping through her bag for the lighter, her hand brushed what she knew was the little doll, Hope. Sad to say, but a little tinge of life and emotion had electrified her heart in one brief touch, even sadder to think that an inanimate object had become her best friend. Finding enough dry wood and kindling nestled beneath the dry underbelly of that old bridge, she was able to start a small fire. And she had been right. It made her feel a little better. Warm. Somehow not so forgotten.
She picked up the doll and began to retrace the memories invoked by every frayed edge. Around each arm and leg were threads of other memories she had collected through the years. When her father had beaten her for interrupting his TV time and had locked her away in the closet for those three days, she had unraveled a thread of the carpet and had decorated Hope…just to pass the time…just to keep her sanity. Then there was the thread that represented the many verbal assaults and insults she had suffered due at the hand of her mother who seemed to be so jealous of her own daughter. She had never quite understood the reasons her mother had felt the need to put her down – especially in front of her dad. Spending so much time in that closet, Hope had come to have quite an array if threads of myriad colors wrapped around her plastic arms. Each thread represented a definite memory, having been pulled from her surroundings during those times of sorrow and suffering.
Sitting there beneath the bridge, rain falling, fire glowing, literally alone, she had come to reject all things material. Her parents had always gone out of their way to have the finest things, biggest homes, designer clothes and whatever else seemed to make them feel as if they were the kings of the neighborhood. Even as a girl, she had felt this was surely not the way a normal family should live. But that had come to be her normal. Pretty and polite and well-received in public, but hiding a world of pain, sorrow, and suffering none of her friends would have believed.
Then she came to the two simple white strands of thread wrapped snuggly around the waist of the little doll. She had tried to forget this one for so many reasons. The first thread represented the night when she was 12 years old and had given birth to that precious little girl. She had not even gotten to hold the baby…but had managed to pull at the white cotton edges of the blanket as the infant was pulled away from her trembling arms. The plain white tread reminded her of the helplessness she had felt when the man had come into her room so many times. Her own relative. She had told her mother, but her mother had told her to watch her tongue.
The second thread represented the little boy that had been taken from her when she was 14. Again, she had managed to grasp one little thread away. This strand reminded her of how odd she had felt when her own family pretended nothing had happened yet at the same time seemed to silently blame her for the predicament she had placed them all in…as if she had somehow had a choice in the matter! Even when she had tried to go to the authorities in her small town, she was told to stop talking such nonsense. Even though the threads of her life had been wrapped around a little doll named Hope, hope was not even remotely possible.
Is anybody out there?
Can anybody see
That who I am on the outside
Is really not me?
When I fall who will pick up the pieces?
When I hurt who will bind up my wound?
When I’m alone or afraid
Will anybody be there?
I’d like to know who…
Having her heart warmed, she was able to rest. Even these perverse memories gave her at least something to cling to. As she thought about her life, her eyes grew tired and she soon drifted off to sleep. Dreams had never been sweet in her life…but tonight the torment of the countless nightmares she had grown accustomed to were simply not there. Soon she found herself twirling round and round in her twirl-around dress, dancing for her grandmother again. So free and so full of joy. She danced and danced for hours as her grandmother sang the old lullaby.
Did you know that someone loves you?
Loves you lavishly!
Loves you more than the whole wide world
That someone is me!
When you fall, I’ll pick up the pieces
When you hurt I’ll bind up your wound
When you’re alone or afraid
I’ll be right where you are
And I love you
As the song faded, her dream continued…but her grandmother had been replaced by a man who seemed to be a Shepherd. The strange figure was surrounded by sheep that were contentedly grazing around the meadow…but He kept beckoning to the girl to follow Him. So she did. As they went from green lush pastures and deep flowing streams to wonderful mountain vistas her heart seemed to leap from her chest at the sheer freedom and acceptance she felt in the Shepherd’s presence all along the way. But soon he began to lead her down through the darkest of valleys, full of sinister glowing eyes peering out from the crevices in every gully they passed through. Instead of the serenity of the calm meadows the darkness was constantly pierced with the shrieks and groans of fear and pain. She found herself being pulled to the Shepherd’s side. She could still feel her surroundings, but she somehow felt safe at the same time.
The journey soon took them to a place of terrible and unmentionable horror. It was obvious that everyone around her was there to torment her and to take her life…but the Shepherd would never allow the enemy to touch her. To her amazement the Shepherd led her to the most extravagant feast she had ever seen. Right there in the midst of His enemies the Shepherd had prepared an elaborate smorgasbord. Taking a seat, they dined for what seemed like an eternity. After taking their fill, the Shepherd picked up the little girl and carried her to a secluded forest glen where the shrieking had been replaced by absolute quiet and the darkness of the stormy night had given way to the brightness of a full moon. Though she remembered all those nights when the other men of her childhood would carry her away in fear, she felt none of that in this moment. Lying in peace on His shoulder, she was soothed to sleep even in her dream by the Shepherd’s simple song.
When everything you are
Just seems to fall apart
And you're alone in the dark;
Sorrow, like endless rain,
No longer hides the pain
And now you've drifted too far;
Come down from the ledge
Of your own broken heart.
Run here to My open arms
Where you can fall apart!
I'll be your Light in dark!
I'll be right where you are!
I'll hold you close through the pain!
I'll calm the raging tide!
I'll be right by your side!
I'll shelter you from the rain!
Put your head on My shoulder!
Put your head on My shoulder
…and rest.
No more tears left to cry.
Wishing that you could die
And make this hurt go away!
This endless raging storm
Has left your heart so torn
You simply can't see a way!
Come down from the ledge
Of your own broken heart.
Run here to My open arms
Where you can fall apart!
I'll be your Light in dark!
I'll be right where you are!
I'll hold you close through the pain!
I'll calm the raging tide!
I'll be right by your side!
I'll shelter you from the rain!
Put your head on My shoulder!
Put your head on My shoulder
…and rest.
As the song ended the girl began to open her eyes. The Shepherd had taken her back to the bridge where the dream had first begun. She was so full of questions but she somehow sensed that her dream would end soon. “Who are you?” she said to the Shepherd. “My name is Jesus. And I’ve been watching over you for such a long time now.”
“But why did You allow all these terrible things to ruin my life?”
“I allowed them, yes, but your life is far from ruined. Like your little doll, Hope, I’ve been with you every step of the way. And like the golden thread that runs through her apron, I have been constantly there through every one of your sorrows, calling you to Myself. You just didn’t know how to hear me very well! If you never knew the dryness of the desert, would you ever know the sweetness of the rain when it falls? If you never knew the sorrow and pain of life, would you be able to experience the comfort and healing that I now offer you?
Like those extra threads you’ve added to Hope through the course of your journey, your life may seem frayed and frazzled and beyond hope right now…but here’s what I would like to do if you will let me.” And the Shepherd took the doll from the girl and began to unravel all the threads that had come to represent all the pain and sorrow and suffering…and right there in the spot He began to somehow magically weave the most beautiful tapestry the girl had ever seen. What had just a few moments before been a shambled mess of brittle timeworn thread had now been transformed into the most exquisite piece of cloth the little girl had ever seen.
“As the Shepherd handed the beautiful tapestry to the girl, He left her with these words. “Just as your life may seem a series of broken promises and shattered dreams and wounds beyond belief, I can take the threads of even your most shameful moments and weave them into something beautiful. I can make your life a tapestry of grace…a tapestry that defies logic because all who see it will know what it was made from, but they will see the depth of beauty due to the touch of the Master Weaver. Your life can be that transformed…but only if you let me have those threads. Give me every thread of hurt. Every thread of disappointment. Every thread of broken promise. Every thread of bitter failure…and I’ll weave something beautiful from your life. For so long you have felt you were hanging by a thread…and you were right. Now let me make something beautiful of that thread. Follow me.”
And He was gone. She startled from her dream and clumsily searched for Hope. Finding the little doll, she looked to see if all the threads from her dream had been transformed into the tapestry she had watched unfold as she slept. But they had not been. They were still there. Still glaring reminders of her tattered and torn life. But something WAS different now. The little golden thread that had become so faded with time and wear now seemed to have a little glimmer of shine to it – as if someone had purposely buffed away some of the grime. A glimmer of hope. That is what she now felt. She slept the rest of that night there under the bridge dreaming of the tapestry the Shepherd would soon make of her life. And He did.
Through the years, she never forgot the many twists and turns of her life. She simply learned to see them from a different perspective…the perspective of a Shpeherd who met her and a little doll under a bridge in a dream…and now the little girl had grown up…but had learned to find the melody of the Shepherd and every once in awhile you could hear her singing in the meadow, spinning around in her big-girl twirl-around dress, holding a little doll close to her heart all the while. Hope had been restored.
Many weary miles
Many painful scar
Many shattered dreams
To get me where you are
Many bitter tears
Many broken hearts
Many disappointments
But worth it still by far
Because I know You
Deep inside of me
In ways I’d always hoped
Your love would somehow reach
Knowing You is worth each struggle
Worth every mile
Worth every single tear
Every fiery trial
Worth every heartache
Worth every pain
Worth every valley
Not one step in vain
Knowing You
Is worth everything
Many sleepless nights
Many painful falls
Many lonely days
To many dead-end walls
Every painful step
I’ve ever had to face
Has led me right to You
And Your amazing grace
And helped me know You
Deep inside of me
In ways I’d always hoped
Your love would somehow reach
Knowing You is worth each struggle
Worth every mile
Worth every single tear
Every fiery trial
Worth every heartache
Worth every pain
Worth every valley
Not one step in vain
Knowing You
Is worth everything
A Thread of Hope MP3A Thread of Hope MP3
