My life is but a weaving between my God and me,
I do not choose the colors, He worketh steadily.
Oftimes He weaveth sorrow, and I in foolish pride,
Forget He sees the upper, and I the underside.
Not till the loom is silent, and shuttles cease to fly,
Will God unroll the canvas and explain the reason why.
The dark threads are as needful in the skillful Weaver's hand
As the threads of gold and silver in the pattern He has planned.
Anonymous
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Dealing with anxiety and depression...
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"The way I see it, if you're breathing there's a lot more right with you than wrong with you." J. Kabot-Zinn
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- Addie
- I'm me. Not really sure who that is yet. Maybe I'll know later. Check back.
2 comments:
Did you write that? I'm very impressed!
I wish I could take credit for it. I'm not sure who wrote it actually. It was read at my church and really spoke to me.
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