To my child

Start writing...One day the Master took a thread of life and began to weave a priceless tapestry. On and on he wove untill sadly I began to despair that this work of art would be trampled underfoot in the marketplace. Who would appreciate the grey tones of grief, the charcoal threads of broken dreams. Surely no one would believe that these dark threads were useful in the Master's plan.

On he wove seeming to ignore my pleas for light. Questioning why, why, why? I fell asleep awakening only to find that the Master had been working all night. Dazzling colours of sunrise exploded in joyful celebration, while warm hues of humour chuckled along meandering tracks leading to a glorious new morning. The brilliant gold of nobility, the purity of white, the crimson red fire of love danced that scene before me. Tenderly the Master turned to me and said " In my care both light and dark become a priceless work of art. You are my masterpiece, I have called you by name."