My life is but a weaving
Between my Lord and me.
I cannot choose the colors
He worketh steadily.
Oftimes he weaveth sorrow
And I in foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper
And I, the underside.
The dark threads are as needful
In the Weaver’s skillful hand
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned.
Not till the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly,
Shall God unroll the canvas
And explain the reason why.
-This poem was in my card today, from Uncle Brad. Thanks to everyone for the cards! ;) I really love them! I'm doing good and I went back to school today. It was hard and I didn't want to go but it wasn't as bad as i thought it was going to be. Everyone was really nice. love Indie
Feeding the dolphins at Sea World.
self potrait
A fabulous hairdo done at the womens show in November.
1 comment:
That is a great poem, and very true. Keep doing what your doing Indie. I know it isn't easy,but it is definitely for the best! You can do it. Lots of love.
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