You know, it is a funny thing about life…we only get to see the past and the now. And sometimes what we see isn’t pretty. Kind of like looking at the back side of a weaving. It is full of knots and broken threads. But when we turn it over we can see the beauty of the work.
THE WEAVER
My life is but a weaving
between my Lord and me,
I cannot choose the colors
I cannot choose the colors
He worketh steadily.
Oft times He weaveth sorrow,
and I in foolish pride
forget He sees the upper
forget He sees the upper
but I the under side.
Not till the loom is silent
and the shuttles cease to fly,
shall God unroll the canvas
shall God unroll the canvas
and explain the reason why.
The dark threads are as needed
in the Weaver’s skillful hand,
as threads of gold and silver
as threads of gold and silver
in the pattern life has planned.
Benjamin Malachi Franklin (1882-1965)
U.S. Library Of Congress, Washington DC, Card # 20060727210211
U.S. Library Of Congress, Washington DC, Card # 20060727210211
I am sharing about such an experience over at Nikki’s place today in my first ever guest post. Thank you Nikki for the opportunity. You can read the rest of my broken thread story here.
Chatter