This week I found a card with a poem that spoke volumes to me.  The card contained a photo of hopeless tangles of embroidery floss.  A multitude of colours running here and there.  Many times our own lives seem that way.  We may ask….  Why is God asking me to do this?  Help them?  Go here or there?  What is God doing in this situation?  How can He work this for His good?

The card contained a poem called The Weaver by Grant Colfax Tullar

“My life is but a weaving between my God and me,

I do not choose the colours, He works so steadily.

Oft times He weaves in sorrow, and I in foolish pride,

Forget He sees the upper, and I the underside.

Not till the loom is silent, and the shuttle cease to fly,

Will God unroll the canvas, and explain the reason why.

The dark threads are as needful in the Weavers skillful hand,

As the threads of gold and silver in the pattern He has planned.”

With thoughts of you all today,

Beth