In my morning devotion a memory surfaced of the time that Cory Ten Boon spoke at my college campus during a chapel in the late 1970's. She said that our lives are like a weaving of which we only see the underside. We see loose ends and threads crossing every which way in seeming randomness. But one day as we approach our time of passing God turns it over and shows us the beautiful work he had made. Maybe this is the comfort that people experience as they come close to passing, the comfort from God as he reveals to them the beauty of the life they have lived and they see how precious life has been and they rejoice.
Here is the poem on which Corrie's talk was based:
My life is but a weaving between my God and me,
I pick out the colors and He weaveth endlessly.
Sometimes He weaveth sorrow, and I within my heart,
Forget He sees the picture, and I see only part.
But the dark threads of sorrow, are as needful in the skillful weavers hands,
As the threads of gold and silver, in the pattern He has planned.
Not till this life is over, and the shuttles cease to fly,
Shall God unroll the canvas, and explain the reasons why.
