My life is but a weaving
Between the Lord and me
I do not choose the colors
He worketh steadily.
Oftimes he weaveth sorrow
And I in foolish pride
Forget he sees the upper
And I the underside.
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.
Not till the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly
Will God unroll the canvas
And explain the reason why.
- Author Unknown
~*~*~
I'm in the process of writing a fairly substantial article called "In the Middle of the Story" for my Hope Chest e-magazine, and it made me think of this poem. There are different versions of it, with the verses in various orders, but the message is the same. We may have lost hope in the middle of our life stories, but we don't know the endings yet. It will all make sense on the other side. Until then, be of good courage! "I don't know what the future holds, but I know Who holds my future!"
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Many blessings,
Virginia Knowles
http://www.comewearymoms.blogspot.com/
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