☼
My life is but a weaving
Between my Lord and me.
I cannot choose the colors
He worketh steadily.
☼
Oftimes he weaveth sorrow,
And I know foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper
And I, the underside.
☼
Not till the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly
Shall God unroll the canvas
And explain the reason why.
☼
The dark threads are as needful
In the Weaver’s skillfun hand
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned
☼
~ Author Unknown
~*~
~*~
In cleaning out my dad’s room, I found this old poem in one of his books. It was like finding an old friend. This poem is one of my favorites, because it reminds me that I am not God, I am not the center of the universe, and I am not all-knowing, all-seeing, or all-powerful! To seek to understand everything that happens in my life is a fool’s task. God is the only one who sees His plan from beginning to end. I do not. I must trust that, when I do see the final tapestry, it will take my breath away in its beauty, its complexity, and its rightness. If you’ve ever looked at the underside of a tapestry, you will know what I mean.
~*~
Today I challenge you to look at your beliefs, and see if you are looking (and critiqueing) by the underside of your tapestry (or anothers).
Related articles
- Footprints in the Sand (mygemsoflife.com)
- Myriad Mercies (solumevangelium.wordpress.com)
- The Eyes of the Lord (keyedtospontaneity.wordpress.com)
