Darkness still lingers when alarm sounds.
I creep downstairs and light my candle—my Christ-light. It floods clarity, eyes slowly adjust and I move from vague dimness to this brilliance.
He speaks to me.
We sit, He and I, together over these words…His words…
and I practice.
I’m learning to listen.
To be still, to wait; these are not my strengths.
Restless, struggling–I move outside under disappearing stars.
The robins are not yet roused from their nests and the stillness thrills awake the sleeping parts in me.
Leaves wave in breeze as limbs bend and sway, light begins to seep in at the edges of the horizon.
There is moisture in the air—God’s breath all over me.
You’re so cool, I say.
I know, He says, smiling.
And we listen together as the robins begin to awaken.
Sometimes, He just wants to be with me.
When I listen, I hear His desire.
And it fills me with wonder.
the fullness of joy.