And a stricken soul was singing, with its heart against a thorn.
The Weaver My life is but a weavingBetween my Lord and me,I cannot choose the colorsHe worketh steadily. Oftimes He weaveth sorrow,And I in foolish
My wife Cindy and I have experienced deep, personal loss. The loss of a son. The loss of a brother. Watching relatives’ lives devastated by