An Unsaid Thank you

This is an entry from Zoe’s private diary and thus in first person narrative. I have not been able to say this out loud yet; however, I am writing those words here. Dear _______, “If you can dream it, you …

The Plan of the Master Weaver

Our lives are but fine weavings
That God and we prepare
Each life becomes a fabric planned
And fashioned in His care

We may not always see just how
The weavings intertwine,
But we must trust the Master’s hand
And follow His design

For He can view the pattern
Upon the upper side,
While we must look from underneath
And trust in Him to guide…

Sometimes a strand of sorrow
is added to His plan,
And though it’s difficult for us,
We still must understand

That it’s He who fills the shuttle,
It’s He Who knows what’s best
So we must weave in patience,
And leave to him the rest…

Not till the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly
Shall God unveil the canvas
And explain the reasons why

The dark threads are as needed
In the Master’s skillful hand
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned