The Plan of The Master Weaver

(This is a poem that was sent to me recently. The friend who sent it has no clue that I spin or knit. Because I do, the poem is kinda extra special).

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 unroll the canvas and explain the reason why-
The dark threads are as needed in the Weaver's skillful hand
As the threads of gold and silver in the pattern He has planned.

(I think this should be read at every fiber-friendly person's funeral, don't you think?)