Webs

No, not Shakespeare, rather Sir Walter Scott in 1808 who wrote “What a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive.” Those who know this line assume that to instigate or be involved in a web can lead to harm or entrapment. For a spider, this may be its primary purpose.

Yet, go beyond face value. Some background facts. The alternate name of cobwebs comes from an archaic word “coppe” which meant spider. At least four types of webs exist depending on the family that weaves them: orb, funnel, tubular and sheet. The orb web size depends on how large the spider is because it has to take a free leap from one line to the next nearest to create cross lines. Sheet webs are those messy tangles that encase crepe myrtle trees and are cleaned off with a strong hose spray. Web strands or spiders are used by humans to test drugs, to be cross hairs in telescopes, or to give a tremor to the music in an African cow horn.

Most importantly, web strength defies its nebulous appearance. Some research states it is stronger than steel even though other studies deny this. If you’ve ever run under a web by accident, though, pulling loose does take perseverance and effort. So, think positively and consider the webs we weave to support our life journeys. They do vary by who we are. Mine are a mixture of family, students, church, gardening, sewing, with friends being crosslines between various strands. Each line leads us to a special time, activity, or relationship. I’m noticing that some do get snapped by wind or life changes. They may dangle a bit and leave us hanging on to whatever is left.

So my web is dwindling, a little ragged around the edges. Some treasured activities have been lessened by age or strength, and the support of some friends has been clipped by the completion of their journey. Middle son and I watched the celebration of the end of a 63 year special connection this afternoon. The togetherness was there from marriages to children to trips to not as young as we were.

Not really a web, yet a reminder of a thread still holding on is a poem ” The Threads in My Hand” by Howard Thurman. This is the ending of a litany that identifies life threads: “One thread is a strange thread – it is my steadying thread/ God’s hands hold the other end.”

I will be your God throughout your lifetime— until your hair is white with age. I made you, and I will care for you. I will carry you along and save you.

Isaiah 46:4