We all begin life on a fragile string.
A thread—a life-sustaining, nutrient-giving thread. This thread connects the fragile to the established, the dependent to the provider.
A curious thread.
About twenty inches long and three-quarters of an inch in diameter, the umbilical cord is the literal lifeline between mother and child, the circulatory cable that allows life to exist in darkened maternal seclusion.
A marvelous, miraculous, curious thread, ingeniously designed. And, ultimately, a thread that must be cut.
Cut so that other curious threads woven into an individual person may begin to flourish. Separate. Unwoven from the connection to the womb. Then to be woven again by the influence of a parent, the empowering, the potentially tangling, the threads of possibility gleaming throughout. Woven into the destiny of an individual.
These curious threads run through all of us, strands of personality and possibility and purpose that are present from the very inception of our lives. Some of us grab hold of those threads and weave together a lace of life that reflects all we were meant to be. Others never quite learn to grasp them, leaving the hems of their lives unfinished and ragged, dangling strings where a fabric of purpose could have been.
Once that curious thread of the umbilical cord is cut, we parents are handed a wet, warm bundle of human along with brief instructions on feeding and diaper changing.
But what about the lacemaking of a little one’s life? What about the weaving of beautiful threads into a delicate web of destiny and character that adorns a heart dedicated to God?
There is an intentionality in the weaving, a respect of the fibers of a being. From our very conception, the weaving begins. Deoxyribonucleic acid. DNA. The stuff we’re woven of.
Scientists tell us our composition is of strands, cords, strings of DNA. To our very molecular makeup, we are threads of design. Within our DNA we carry the building blocks of a human. But God also leaves enough wiggle room to ensure that no two individuals are exactly alike. Even identical twins have subtle differences. God builds into the human experience an incredible foundational truth: We are all, each of us, an original. The Divine Lacemaker gathers His similar threads for life and weaves them anew for every human brought to existence. And when He makes us parents, He invites us to participate in that miraculous process,
When I talk with other parents—and when I take a look at my own heart—I realize we all have one thing in common: We don’t want our kids to flop.
Some of us stumble into parenthood and others plan their parenting path with precise rigor. Some start college funds before the baby is even born and others remember last-minute to register their kid for kindergarten. Some of us feel well-prepared for motherhood and fatherhood, and others change their very first diaper ever when the new baby comes home. Regardless of the preparation we’ve had, the advice we’ve received, and the attitude we bring to the endeavor, there’s one thing upon which the whole deal revolves.
Your child is a one-of-a-kind. Nobody has ever raised your kid before. Parenting is a real-time experience. A learning-on-the-job scenario. You can never completely prepare for it. You can have reams of resources on how to raise a child—and much of it can be valuable. But there’s always one deficit. There’s no manual on how to raise your kid. Because no one has done it before. You’ve been invited by God to participate in a truly singular event—the upbringing of a person who has never before existed, someone with a fresh blend of characteristics, gifts, and purpose. A new life with a new offering for the world. A soul set in this season with a specificity of God’s intent. And that’s going to take an original approach.
Order Julie’s new book, ‘Raising an Original,’ today!
