Nov 7, 2013

When I think back on my life and the weaving that has already been done, I am filled with gratitude. I am so grateful for the bright yellow threads of family get-togethers at my grandparent’s home. Playing hide-n-seek for hours, running all over the yard and up and down trees, jumping over the rhubarb patch, climbing the metal pole on the back porch and then swinging around it on the way back down, then being called in by grandma for a delicious family dinner with far more choices of what to eat than I ever had at home, kneeling down for morning prayers around the breakfast table and at the couch in the evening for nightly prayers, watching my grandmother work in the kitchen from sun-up to sun-down and then reading her scriptures late at night at her metal kitchen table – these rich experiences of family life were gifts of immeasurable consequence.

The angry red threads of parents’ fighting, the black threads of hopelessness, the purple threads of being taught I am a child of God and choosing to really believe it, and the green threads of becoming a mother and growing into that role are all in my tapestry as well. There are turquoise threads of fun times, lots and lots of brown threads that represent the healthy soil God has surrounded me in to help me grow into the daughter He created me to be, and pink threads full of laughter and joy.

So many colors. So many experiences. I am grateful for them all. Especially the threads being woven right now. I am learning so much about Him, about me, about how very, very flawed I am and how much I need Him to teach me, to rescue me, to love me.

Life is But a Weaving
Corrie Ten Boom (The Tapestry Poem)

My life is but a weaving
Between my God and me.
I cannot choose the colors
He weaveth 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
Will God unroll the canvas
And reveal the reason why.
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
He knows, He loves, He cares;
Nothing this truth can dim.
He gives the very best to those
Who leave the choice to Him.

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  1. Julie

    That poem was put to song. I have it by Jenny Phillips, called The Weaving. The cd I got it from is called He comforts me. I love it!

    • tracy

      Thanks for the tip! I have one of Jenny’s CDs, but not that one.