My memories are like balls of yarn
Which from my basket spill
And I watch as all those threads of life
Go tumbling down the hill!
So lately I’ve been wondering when
Just when those balls will slow
So they can be knit back again
Into neat tighter rows
But then my Lord reminds me
In whose hands our lives are held
And how through every thread of life
He will His story tell
I will praise you for I am fearfully and wonderfully made
Marvelous are your works, and that my soul knows very well.
Psalm 139:14 NKJV
praise2worshipdotnet 
How beautiful! I’m so thankful that the weaving of my life is in His hands.
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Pastor Pete, your poem reminds me of the extra balls of yarn my Nana would have when she finished crocheting a blanket. Eventually she would collect enough of these extras and stitch up another blanket. I can still picture the blanket that had yarn from each of the afghans she had made for us grandkids. It was fun spotting my blanket amongst my siblings.
My mom both knitted as crocheted. I have happy memories also of watching her work. I think it was her form of therapy.
Knit me into the glory of your eternal story, Lord.
Amen!
Amen! It’s best to leave the weaving to God. Great post, Pastor Pete!
Thanks David. This poem was a bit personal and difficult to write, so I am glad that people who know me (at least through my blog) add their thoughts.