Poems...
The Weaver
My life is but a weaving between my Lord and me,
I cannot choose the colors He works so steadily.
Oft time He weaves in sorrow, and I, in foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper, and I the underside.
The dark threads are as needed in the Weaver's skillfull hand
As the threads of gold and silver in the pattern He has planned.
Not till the loom is silent and the shuttles case to fly
Will God unroll the canvas and explain the reason why.
~ Author unknown
Westcliffe Days
Auntie Em's buddy... Andrew!!
My "little" niece. Poor Klara.. right now, her nickname that her big brother gave her is "Chubs". She is soo cute. We just love her to pieces!
What a view that Mom and Dad have from their house.
My "little" niece. Poor Klara.. right now, her nickname that her big brother gave her is "Chubs". She is soo cute. We just love her to pieces!
What a view that Mom and Dad have from their house. 
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