So, here are some of Howard Thurman’s words for us today. May they be the spirit-food we need to be nourished.
The Threads in My Hand
Only one end of the threads, I hold in my hand.
The threads go many ways, linking my life with other lives.
One thread comes from a life that is sick; it is taut with anguish
And always there is the lurking fear that the life will snap.
I hold it tenderly. I must not let it go…
One thread comes from a high-flying kite;
It quivers with the mighty current of fierce and holy dreaming
Invading the common day with far-off places and visions bright…
One thread comes from the failing hands of an old, old friend.
Hardly aware am I of the moment when the tight line slackened
and there was nothing at all -nothing…
One thread is but a tangled mass that won’t come right;
Mistakes, false starts, lost battles, angry words — a tangled mass;
I have tried so hard, but it won’t come right…
One thread is a strange thread — it is my steadying thread;
When I am lost, I pull it hard and find my way,
When I am saddened, I tighten my grip and gladness glides
along its quivering path.
When the waste places of my spirit appear in arid confusion,
the thread becomes a channel of newness of life.
One thread is a strange thread — it is my steadying thread.
God’s hand holds the other end…