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 the 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.

Since we live by the Spirit, let us walk in step with the Spirit.

“I have had to forgive myself too. …Often we can’t forget, but we can always forgive. It can be the start of a new way to remember, It can change the memories of past failures into hope for the future and free us up to laugh again.” p. 115, Chapter 27, ‘Tricks My Dog Taught Me About Life, Love and God’, Phil Callaway.