Every weaving has two sides. The weaving of my life is no different. My Weaver sees the pattern, and so I trust Him as the shuttle flies in ways I sometimes do not understand,particularly from this view - the underside. I am mother of nine (three in heaven), a writer, a wife/daughter/sister, a business woman, a lover of creation, and a daughter of the King. Please join me as exuberant colors, compelling textures, and eclectic threads weave the story of my life.
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Life is but a weaving
between my God and me;
I may not choose the colors,
He knows what they should be.
For He can view the pattern
Upon the upper side,
While I can see it only
On this, the under side.
Sometimes He weaveth sorrow,
Which seemeth strange to me;
But I will trust His judgment,
And work on faithfully.
'Tis He who fills the shuttle,
He knows just what is best;
So I shall weave in earnest
And leave with Him the rest.
At last, when life is ended,
With Him I shall abide,
And I may view the pattern
Upon the upper side,
Then I shall know the reason
Why pain with joy entwined,
Was woven in the fabric
Of life that God designed.
Author Unknown
Thursday, December 8, 2011
The air this morning was crisp, not mild as it has been for days, and the dew drops were actually frozen on the blades of grass, outlined in crystals that shimmered in the sun - yes, sun! After days of dreary rain and feeling my very skin had grown moldy, the sun has revealed a glittering blue sky! I am so thankful for the bright days that intersperse the darker ones...but so often, I quickly forget that these sun filled days always, always, return to relieve the cloudy ones.
Yes, hope does spring eternal.
The morning was ripe with story content - forgot to set my alarm to take 13 yr. old to school early for a meeting, which meant I had to rush with the contacts routine, and in the process, somehow lost the one for my right eye somewhere on the bathroom floor. Too blind to only wear one, I have pulled out the trusty eyeglasses, which do not seem to work for computer screen distance, yet reading glasses provide no help either. I am destined for fuzzy-world-ness until I manage to order another. Sigh. Not the best sign to start off my day, $65 in the hole. Then off to the coffee shop, in hubby's truck since my Jeep has developed a temperamental electrical problem, only to realize that with a ladder in the back, I could not park on the street! Found a parking lot, and tied his red baseball cap to the ladder end with a bungee cord, as I wasn't sure as to the legal extension for such things with New Phila's finest was, and didn't want to continue to rack up bills so early in the day. Enjoyed a cuppa' aromatic joe, and planned to wait until 8 so I could hit the walking track at the Sr. Center as soon as they opened, (yes, joined when I turned 50 - what a deal! A walking track and gym membership for 15 bucks a YEAR!) but plans were thwarted when not one, but TWO calls came in - advising me that our cows were running amuck at BOTH Crooked Run farms!
So I hurried home to find hubby already hot on the trail of the wandering bovines, and managed to get in a mild workout chasing cattle half the morning. So much for catching up on my writing work...:)
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Restless
I grow restless with the harshness of the drawn out winter season. Holiday diamonds that were scattered throughout, sparkling with celebration - Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's, St. Valentines Day - have all been rolled into layers of velvet obscurity and tucked away for another year. In the absence of their anticipation, the landscape is dull, muted, muddied.
The knowledge remains that there is a season of renewal approaching. A songbird chirped at dawn today, a brave shoot of green reared its head to seek for sun.
Oh, Lord, give me the courage to raise my head as well.