You Unravel Me

Who am I Lord if not your design? 

If I am not the ink that flows from the pen placed on paper? 

Am I not that piece of thread that is hanging off of a piece of clothing? 

I feel the world reach for me and pull so harshly. 

It twists and turns me around its finger to detach me. 

In my stubbornness I hold on to what I know for dear life, pure survival. 

Then I am reunited with the face of my designer. 

My designer reaches out to pull on me, but am I not fulfilling my purpose? 

Am I no longer a part of His design? 

He continues to reach for me as I am running from him. 

He grasps me and starts to pull and all of a sudden the sleeve holding me up is falling before me. 

I am collapsing, falling to the floor, the design falling around me, suffocating me, leaving me with nothing. 

Then I feel it. 

I feel the familiar pull of my designer; a distinct pull unlike that of the world, not a harsh tug but a soft tender pull. 

My designer pulled me up, but I was no longer an annoying piece of thread on the end of a sleeve. 

I was a long piece of thread that was so neatly and intricately woven into the design. 

How? How did my designer take away everything, my structure, what I thought was holding me up, and knew it was exactly what I needed? 

I thought I knew how the garment was made, but I put my ideas over the designers. 

He unraveled me. 

He unraveled me to remind me that I am a thread made for a garment infinitely more beautiful than any garment I could fathom. 

I am a thread. 

I am a daughter. 

I am his daughter and the Father will continue to unravel me until I see that.