The Weaver
My life is but a weaving,
between my God and me,
I do not choose the colors,
He worketh steadily.
Ofttimes he weaveth sorrow,
and I in foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper,
and I the underside.
Not till the loom is silent,
and the shuttles cease to fly,
Will God unroll the canvas,
and explain the reasons why
The dark threads are as needful
in the skillful weaver's hand
As threads of gold and silver
in the pattern He has planned.
Beautiful poetry and graphic, yorkie.
I loved everyone’s red Friday posts.
Happy you liked my darling baby boy.
I saw “pictures” of my to be born in April identical great grandsons..Yes ...more boys..I have 4 grandsons..
I had to leave dinner and bring a plate home..back was screaming at me..
Darn back.
Three grandsons, son DIL and beautiful mom to be all came here later bringing 5 desserts and many hugs and love..
I told my Granddaughter in law that prayers for healthy mom and healthy babies were expressed here for her..She thanked me ..said so far she has had an easy time..little nausea and only tireder than usual..All is well so far.
I had sweet Thanksgiving calls from Navy grandson, his wife ,now based in Norfolk, and my ill daughter and SIL.
I got lots of warm hugs..making it a great Thanksgiving.