The Weaver

“The Weaver”

My life is but a weaving
Between my Lord and me,
I cannot 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 in silent
And the shuttles cease to fly
Shall God unroll the canvas
And explain 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.
~ B.M. Franklin

This poem has a very special meaning to Cindy and me. We knew that our son, Brian, had been a gift from God to us for eighteen years. We placed this poem on the prayer card at his funeral in December of 2003. We presented a print of the poem in a framed shadow box to the family of the young woman who was involved in the accident that took our son’s life. We also have a framed print of it displayed on a wall in our home. Even in the midst of our loss, we clearly saw God’s hand. We saw threads of silver and gold which brought us bittersweet joy, even as we lay awake crying in bed the night his funeral.  We can assure you that not even the darkest threads can separate us from the love of Jesus Christ.

Romans 8:35
“Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?”

Note that although some have attributed the poem to Corrie Ten Boom, she was not the author. 

Photograph by John J O’Leary

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