The Weaver

My life is but a weaving
Between my Lord and me.
I cannot choose the colors
He works so steadily.

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

The dark threads are as needed
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 shuttles cease to fly,
Will God unroll the canvas
And explain the reason why.

Psalm 84:5
Blessed are those whose strength is in you, who have set their hearts on pilgrimage.

An adventure is, by its nature, a thing that comes to us. It is a thing that chooses us, not a thing that we choose. Gilbert Chesterton

Luke 24:30-32
As they sat down to eat, he took a small loaf of bread, asked God's blessing on it, broke it, then gave it to them. Suddenly, their eyes were opened, and they recognized him. And at that moment he disappeared! They said to each other, "Didn't our hearts feel strangely warm as he talked with us on the road and explained the Scriptures to us?"