A couple of lovely cards arrived this morning - I am a very fortunate person to have such support - and in one was this poem which I've decided to share...

The Divine Weaver

My life is but a weaving
Between my Lord and me;
I cannot choose the colours,
He works it steadily.

Sometimes he weaves sorrow
And I, in foolish pride,
Forget that 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 skilful hand
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern he has planned.

I like that it acknowledges the unanswered questions of life, or at least that we won't find the answers this side of eternity.  Whilst I'm not sure I go with the preordination the poem implies, I do believe that God somehow works* the dark 'threads' into something beautiful... "in all things God works for the good of those who love him" Romans 8:28.

* or at least can work them thus, if only we are open to that working