Devotion 318 - red thread

I remember the thread.  This crazy red thread.

I bumped into it with the first or maybe it was the second blog I read about Chinese adoption. 

It had seemingly weaved its way into the hearts of so many adoptive families; this tugging thread.

I remember picking this thread up as if it were my own.  Perhaps we too were destined.  Perhaps with enough hope and prayer we too would meet the child destined to be in our family. 

I remember that day, so etched in the memory;  the sunlight, the stomach ache, the bag packed and repacked with everything I thought might catch a wee little girls eyes away from her grieving heart.  I remember how her skin felt against mine.  I remember her warm face as it cozied into my neck.  A child who was moments before a stranger now was etched into our very souls.

It is amazing… this thread.  It was and is a part of our Chinese story but one I had cast into a culture that is not Christian, therefore a piece of folklore instead of faith.

I had not thought much about that thread for over two years.  Then sitting on a plane determined to finish reading  a biography, I read these words,

It will be very interesting one day to follow the pattern of our life as it is spread out like a beautiful tapestry.  As long as we live here we see only the reverse side of the weaving, and very often the pattern, with its threads running wildly, doesn't seem to make since.  Some day however, we shall understand.  In looking back over the years we can discover how as red thread goes through the pattern of our life:  the Will of God.  And here we had found our guiding star which should lead us faithfully through all tempests into the final haven.  -  Maria Augusta Trapp

The red thread came back to me once again, this simple little proverb, written so many thousands of years ago.  I wondered if perhaps the heavenly Father had breathed these very words into the heart of the philosopher hoping to pull him from destiny to Divine.

It was a beautiful landscape as I walked through those memories.  The anxiety of the flight to China; the worry for a little girl I so desperately loved who scarcely knew my face.   Then, four beautiful days in, jet lag behind us, a thousand pictures already taken, she was handed to us.  Glorious.

The days after were a treasure hunt.  We all tasked ourselves to make this tiny child smile, to see what food seemed to please, to watch as her little eyes would close to sleep and then open to find us as if gasping for the very air of happiness,  miracle after miracle.

We traveled to our last Chinese city, now two weeks away from home.  With everything in me, I had the sense of completion.  What we had come for had been accomplished.  We were within two days of Ava’s visa and we would be returning to the states.  The prologue and our introduction had been written, now the rest of the story would unfold, one page, one day at a time.

We were finally afforded the luxury of no paperwork.  We would take our last two days for sightseeing and shopping.  I knew exactly where we would go.  Our family of seven loaded into two taxis.  I can still remember hearing the bellman tell both drivers which street.  

We arrived, but the second car did not.  We walked and walked wondering how the seemingly simple directions had been confused.  A shopkeeper came out.  She greeted us warmly but seemed to sense we would not be staying.  My husband said we would be back, and he meant it.  Finally, we were united with our lost family members courtesy of a borrowed cell phone.  All seemed in order and our shopping began.  The shopkeeper once again popped out of her little boutique.  She had beautiful things. 

I had many gifts to buy, one for each year we would celebrate the uniting of our family with our second daughter.  

Everything was lovely.  The more we looked, the more the shopkeeper experimented with her English.  Without warning, the conversation turned from trinkets when she asked, “Are you Christians?”

My husband seemingly knowing this question in this country could be dangerous took the lead, “Yes and how do you know?” 

“Because you said you would come back, and you did,” our lovely shopkeeper replied.  We slowly worked through her questions.  It was our joy to add just a few drops of water and sunshine to a seed already nestled deep within her heart. 

We had not planned to shop the next day.  The next day was about heading home, but we knew it was our turn not to get but to give.   We wanted a Bible in the native language but determined we would give what we had.

We said over and over, “You can translate it with the computer.”  Our new friend smiled and seemed to cherish it.  

For over two years I have held so dear every moment of that trip, confident in every way our part of the red thread, our part of God’s plan was to meet our beloved daughter.  I see her red thread now in the tapestry of our lives and I rejoice in it.

But then, as only God could, after a sweet reminder of this scarlet thread and the workings of the Will of God in the biography I had just finished, an email found its way to us from the shopkeeper an ocean away.  It was a thank you, and these words…

There is another thing i have to say thank you, because of your family and your father`s bible, let me think which is important for my life, let me find the real god.i am a christian now.

When we approached that shop that day, my journey, my agenda had finished.  But for some shopping, I had turned the page on our China story.

The Father most miraculously had not.

We look down and we see all the messy bits Beloved; the tangles and tears, the knots and confusion, but every once in a beautiful while we see the glimpse of the tapestry.  We see that he has not tugged our hearts with chain or rope, but thread, the gentle and glorious whisper of the Holy Spirit and we realize His ways are not our ways. 

His ways are magnificent!

Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, O Lord, for I have put my trust in you.  Show me the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul.

Psalm 143:8