What comes to mind when you think of the word ‘plaid’Plaid.
His differences weave with mine, his the base pattern, for he is our leader. Not in an arrogant, I'm better than you way but in a "You're my family and I love you and with that love, a fierceness comes to provide and protect." And we rely on that and rest in that safety and strength and we are all better because of it.
We weave around his foundational core strengths. He is the beginning of our pattern. He is husband, father, provider, refuge, laughter, protector. He is the strength.
My thinner strips run horizontal to his. The complement to all he is. For I complete him. I am the part he didn't know he was missing until he found me. Now, he wonders how he lived before and tells me he will never live after, should an after come through death parting us only.
Mine is the stripe of song and love that holds together what he begins. I am wife, mother, nurturer, molder of dreams, soother of hurts, wiper of tears. I am the heartbeat.
He is the stripe, barely seen, not even visible to those who don't know. Waiting in heaven, yet here long enough to be a part of our family pattern. He is our first, always missed, and he is the belief of promise.
She is the stripe like mine. Like his. A combination of our colors. A combination of his strength my heart. The best of us, sometimes the worst. I see him in her, he sees me in her. The product of miracle and love, the one we never thought we'd have, the one I begged to keep when we thought her thread would be ripped before it was even sewn.
She is laughter and joy, student and analyzer. Tender one with a temper. Longing to be loved, loving those longing. Digger of dirt, lover of butterflies. His masonry helper, my fellow fairy daydreamer. She is firstborn, daughter, love, wonder. She is the beauty.
He is another stripe, barely seen though more visible than his brother. His impact touched more lives and made us re-examine ours. Life can not be lived the same when death's door is neared. He went on leaving me behind to continue weaving the stripes.He is our third, always missed, and he is our gift of God.
He is the stripe that surprised and delighted. The one that came with even more seeming miracle than his sister. Born screaming and not stopping until four months had run their time, he taught God's sufficient grace in dark night hours and days of tears. Health resolved, he became delight and sparkle of our lives.
He is cuddler extraordinaire, blue eyed, animated wonder. Mischief and exploration, fascinated discovery and hair pulling naughtiness. Hitting one moment, crying in empathy and kissing the next. The twinkle in our eyes, reflecting the twinkle in his. He is second-born while being the fourth. He is our fascination.
She is our latest thread, again barely visible only to those who know. Unexpected miracle five, beyond comprehension in light of our odds, snuggled in for the briefest of times before reaching the wonder of God's glory. She is our fifth, always missed, and she is graceful hope.
Four here living the story written for earth, three waiting for us to catch up to the wonder, already living their eternal purpose. Together, our seven lives, form the intricate pattern that only we can create.
We are family.