She brings her gentle rain that quiets the ground so the seeds can have a easier time of coming up because the earth is warming and bringing the smell of spring. Which as I tried to figure out what that wonderful smell is and it just has to be the perfume of blossoms and warming earth and sunshine.
My life is but a weaving
Between my God and me.I cannot choose the colors
He weaveth steadily.
Oft’ times He weaveth 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 reveal 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
He knows, He loves, He cares;
Nothing this truth can dim.
He gives the very best to those
Who leave the choice to Him.
When we got married, Ron wrote a song to sing at our wedding. The words that are my favorite, are, " Who knows how deep in love we fell... Thirty-Six years later, I find the word love to be too small to define what we have now. Living with someone who has seen me at every stage of my body. Who has been with me at every gift God has given, at every joy, every triumph. Not to mention this unexplained part of my life known as menopause.
Of all of the things we have accomplished in our life, the thing I find what I am most proud of is that we never gave up. Even those days we couldn't stand to be in the same room with each other. This part of life as the poem by Robert Browning says it best. "
“Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, the last of life, for which the first was made. Our times are in his hand who saith, 'A whole I planned, youth shows but half; Trust God: See all, nor be afraid!”
I love you,