This week we have been struggling with some medical issues in our family. We’ve spent many hours in visits to the clinic and hospital, and countless hours in consultation with doctors. It’s been a very exhausting and stressful time, to say the least.
A friend shared a poem with me that really touched my heart and helped put things into proper perspective. It turns out that this poem is quite popular, but I had never had the chance to hear it before, so I am sharing it here for those who might need it as much as I did.
The Weaver
My life is but a weaving
between my Lord and me;
I cannot choose the colors
He worketh steadily.
Oft times He weaveth sorrow
And I, in foolish pride,
Forget He sees the upper,
And I the underside.
Not til 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 skillful hand,
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned.
Benjamin Malachi Franklin (1882-1965)
published in ‘The Memphis Commercial Appeal’ newspaper in 1950
Latter-day Soprano 