April is National Poetry Month and here is another poem I like. Many years ago, I heard a woman recite this poem, using a tapestry to show the messy underside that we see in our lives and the beautiful top side seen by God.
My life is just a weaving, between my God and me,
I do not choose the colors, He works in steadily.
Some 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 shuttles cease to fly,
Will God unroll the canvas, and explain the reasons why
The dark threads are as needful in the skillful weaver’s hand
As threads of gold and silver in the pattern He has planned.
ANONYMOUS
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