I found this poem about two weeks ago and it has just stuck with me. I love it.
This is it.
I talk about my (our) life being like a jigsaw puzzle, probably because I don't weave or loom, but it's still the same principle. Every piece fits and it's God's master plan, some jigsaw puzzles have more pieces than others, sad but true. But they all fit and all have purpose.
My life is but a weaving between my God and me,
I do not choose the colors, He works so steadily.
Oft'times He weaves in 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 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.
And someday we will see how we fit and how all the pieces of our life worked together just perfectly the way God planned.
In God's Love, sheila