The Weaver

I prefer days with blue skies and warm temperatures, with maybe a few light cumulus clouds drifting through.  I prefer tranquil days and peaceful nights of blissful sleep with no dreams.  I prefer no turmoil, no problems, no dissent, no stress, no forgotten chores.  I prefer people who do right. 

However, I live in a different time, a different family, a different world.  And in spite of all my clinging to a smoothly carved path, someone's roller coaster comes along and scoops me up to heights I'd rather not experience, to lows I can hardly bear.  Sometimes I find the roller coaster has my own name written on it...and I didn't even know I started it rolling.

A poem was read to us at a worship service called "The Weaver" by Benjamin Malacia Franklin. 

My life is just a weaving
Between my Lord and me.
I cannot change the color
For He works most steadily.

Oft times He weaves the sorrow
And I in foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper
And I the underside.

Until the loom is silent
And the shuttle cease to fly,
Will God roll back the canvas
And explain the reason why.

The dark threads are as needful
In the skillful  Weaver's Hand
As the golden threads of silver
He has patterned in His Plan.

It is not easy to be thankful or even understand hard times, but it serves a purpose.  I ask God to refine me, knowing from experience that this request may be answered in ways difficult to handle and by methods I might wish not to encounter.  But that is the point, isn't it?  That my faith be stronger, that I grow in dependence on the grace of our Lord, and that I surrrender each and every concern to the One who knows me best.

While my heart aches for those facing trials, both real and imagined, my prayers have become my constant thought process, increasing my love for those in need and praying they turn to the only one who can truly comfort...knowing that one day we will fully understand the dark threads and how they shaped our lives.