The Weaving of My Days

I remember in ninth grade, With every step, I was so afraid

And everyone that I knew, fellow travelers in the halls

Well, I guess we were all the same

They worked so hard to fit their hearts in a form

That was given by they didn't know who

And I thought and I talked like there was more to that life

But when it came down to what I'd do

It was what I wanted to

Then in college was a light, Open roads on every side

Life was bigger than I'd dreamed

But it seemed, I could grow into it if I just had enough time

I still love the songs that I wrote in those years

Full of passion and clarity and drive

I can't write like that now, but I still love to listen

And think that voice of myself's still alive

Somewhere inside

Could it be that you'll make of these moments so stray

More than a line of a thread with its knots and fray?

Could it be, at the end, that it's redemption itself that awaits

At the weaving of my days?

The year after we were wed, Rachel and I could see glory ahead

The path before us, we tripped and we flew

But we knew we wanted to find out where it led

There were so many hours at a job that was telling me

How important was my time

It was the fact that I shared that life with another

That said if time could be a gift we could give

Then life is what we'd find

Could it be that you'll make of these autumn grays

More than a leaf on a river as it floats away?

Could it be, at the end, that every memory will sing your praise

At the weaving of my days?

There are millions of moments and thousands of days

That are running like lines on a canvas page

And billions of people all crossing each other along the way

Can you bring them together, do something that no other could dream

Redeem a tapestry out of this fray?

The years will always leave their trace

Scars where tears have run down our face

We trade assurance for a world that is charged

With brokenness and glory and grace

For now all we see is a tangle of a nest through a mirror of frost and haze

But we wait even so for new life to be born here

We wait with expectation and praise

For the weaving of our days