Thy Life is as a Weaving

My child, thy life is as a weaving. Beauty shall not come to thee by joy alone. Life may be tortuous at times, and the pathway rough. From fabrics of lovely silk and from cords of rougher materials, I fashion what pleaseth Me. Ye may never know why certain experiences come. It is enough that My hand brings them all.

My grace is limited in no way by sorrow and difficulty. Indeed, it shines like a strand of gold mixed with the black of grief. My hand moveth with infinite love and I am creating a pattern of intricate beauty.

Be never dismayed. The end shall bring rejoicing for both thyself and Me. For ye are My workmanship, created in Christ, even in His mind before the worlds existed.

Doubt not, for My will shall be done.

From "Come Away My Beloved" by Frances J. Roberts