Life is But a Weaving

 Life is But a Weaving

My life is but a weaving

Between my God and me.

I cannot choose the colors

He weaveth steadily.

Oft’ times He weaveth sorrow;

And I in foolish pride

Forget He sees the upper

And I the underside.

Not ‘til the loom is silent

And the shuttles cease to fly

Will God unroll the canvas

And reveal the reason why.

The dark threads are as needful

In the weaver’s skillful hand

As the threads of gold and silver

In the pattern He has planned

He knows, He loves, He cares;

Nothing this truth can dim.

He gives the very best to those

Who leave the choice to Him.

I love this poem! It is so true! I love the imagery that it gives and how well that applies to our lives! We all have times where all we see are the dark threads of trial and adversity and we all hope for the times when the gold threads show up again. But the end result needs both to make it a masterpiece. And like the poem says it is up to us to turn it over to Him.