Solitude

Promises Whispered

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

Bree’s favorite trail isn’t far from home. She can drive there in about 15 minutes, give or take, if you factor in the morning traffic. The aroma of her medium latte macchiato swirls through the truck as it warms her hands at the stoplight. She notices the way the sunbeams hitting the prism hanging from her rearview mirror shatter and regroup into lovely rainbows and shimmery light. The way the colors land on the dashboard and the sleeves of her hoodie bring a soothing feeling of hope and of promises whispered and kept.

The parking lot of the trailhead is partly full. Maybe she can get the clarity and peace she’s seeking this morning without the distraction of other trail-walkers. Freedom to clearly hear and seek the confirmation she’s looking for is uppermost in her mind. There are too many voices with strong opinions, sage advice and “words from the Lord” coming at her from all sides. Everyone has an opinion of what her next steps should be and how they should be taken. A lot of “shoulds”… The chaos is deafening.

Bree knows this trail with its curves, slight hills and beautiful trees that offer shade and bright patches of warm sunlight. It’s her go-to place when the chaos becomes suffocating, and she needs to re-center and re-focus on Jesus and what she knows in her heart He has spoken and promised. To Bree, nature is the sanctuary where she finds Him. Her church. Her sacred place where the living and breathing God of the universe speaks to her through all of her senses. She feels His breath in the breeze, His words sighing through the wind in treetops, His laughter in birdsong and critter chatter, His love in patches of sunlight that gently brush and warm her skin and his peace, that glorious peace. It enfolds her with scents of pine, warm soil, ancient things and nature. Holy.

Moving further along the trail, Bree hears that lovely silence, the gift of the forest. Her mind begins to slough off the voices and the “shoulds”.  The contrasting coolness of the woodsy air and the warmth of the sun penetrating the open spots of the canopy feels brisk and invigorating. Peeling off the hoodie, Bree picks up her pace and savors the competing chill and warmth of the trail. As she ties the hoodie around her waist, she notices the tattoos on her arms. Be Still and Faith over Fear.  In her busyness, she’s forgotten the deep meaning of these words inked onto her skin.  They are reminders of hard, life-changing circumstances, words that she clearly heard Him speak over her and to her – prophesy and promises. Promises…

As her mind wanders back over all she has weathered in her years, Bree remembers the words spoken to her soul through long walks on the beach, the hope given though the laughing song of a rushing creek, the peace from events and circumstances that at first glance appeared random but were truly divine encounters.

Quieting her mind, Bree finds a spot just off the path and sits. She needs to hear from Him. She has questions and is worried about the next steps. She knows the gift she was given and what He asked her to do with it. She did it to the best of her human ability. She did it with excitement, joy and hope but also with fear and worry that she wouldn’t get it right, that it wouldn’t be enough and that she’d ruin it with her imperfections and humanity.  She tried to be a good steward with what she was given. Was it enough? What else should she be doing?

“Please, she whispers, I need to hear from You.”

As the words leave her lips, a feeling of hope and peace settle over her like a light brush of wings and air, a gentle blanket of fragrance that permeates and soothes. The familiar goosebumps she feels when in His presence prick along the nape of her neck and arms. The supernatural is here, a divine encounter. Be still…be still…

Resting in this peace and breathing in the calm, joy, and hope of Him, Bree envisions herself lifting it up, this gift, and placing it back into strong, capable, divine hands that know exactly what needs to be done and how He will do it. She remembers the verse in Isaiah 55:11 (HCSB) that He showed her when He first gave her the gift – “so My word that comes from My mouth will not return to Me empty, but it will accomplish what I please and will prosper in what I send it to do.”

His hands receive it and the cacophony of voices clamoring for attention, giving advice and opinions are silent now. His will prevails and His voice drowns out all else. This. This is what she’s been seeking. This peace that doesn’t make sense, but still is…this knowing, this discernment that speaks to what is and is to come. She needed to remember all the times and ways He has spoken and that she is capable of hearing, discerning and resting in that knowing.

With her spirit and soul refreshed by her divine appointment in the forest, Bree sits a bit longer soaking in the healing balm of nature. Her heart feels hopeful. She is confident again that she will discern the next step when it is time to take it. She will rest in that hope. She will be still and listen to His promises whispered in the wind and dancing through the trees.  

Raw

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

Raw

The morning view from my kitchen window is filled with shafts of pink and pale orange that stripe the sunrise sky and mix with the slate grey of the cloud cover. It’s so quiet and still. The neighbor’s fig and plum trees have lost all their leaves. The branches look stark and raw stripped of their leaf cover. Raw…

I’m the first one up except for the dog and cats. The house is chilly as the heater begins its task of warming things up. I love the feeling of my warm coffee mug bringing warmth to my chilled hands. It’s comforting. It’s soothing. It’s routine and I look forward to it every day.

Standing at my kitchen window watching the Creator begin painting the sky with even brighter hues and bursts of brilliance that word, raw, simmers in my brain. I feel raw this morning. It can be defined as in its natural state; not yet processed or purified; not analyzed, evaluated, or processed for use.

The Christmas season is over and the new year looms ahead. I always feel off-kilter and unsettled this time of year. The build up and anticipation, the plans and decorations, the bright glitter and shine, the special food and the hope of seeing loved ones has worn off and dulled. Putting it all away for next year, the clearing up and cleaning out, the good-byes and see ya laters await and it all just feels raw and painful. So much can happen in a year, a month, a minute and I am not a fan of uncertainty. I try to live in the moment and let go of worry, fear, lack of control and lean into the new, the blessings and adventures that will come.  But it’s still hard. My emotions are raw and chaotic. They need a resting place. Help, Jesus…

As I watch the morning unfold on my patio trying to sort my thoughts, a feeling of safety and tucking-in surrounds me. It’s beautiful and startling. I know it’s You. The comforting words of Psalm 139: 1-2 open up in my mind, “O Lord, you have searched me and known me! You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from afar.” As Your words soak in, the pent-up emotions and chaos tumble forth. You understand the raw, the chaos, and the frantic unsettled feelings that don’t have a place to land. You are the landing place and the wide-open hands. You are the Alpha and Omega, the One who can sort, sift and make any sense of the jumbled thoughts and rawness. You are the One who calms and smooths out the unanalyzed, the not yet processed, natural state of the human heart and You purify it. It feels freeing, safe, and cleansing giving it to You in its raw, clouded and mixed-up state.

With You, I don’t have to tone it down, gauge the emotional capacity of the one I’m sharing with, dismiss and diminish myself and the rawness of my emotions in order to protect someone else, or use copious amounts of humor to tame it and make it palatable to another. With You, I am just me – all the raw feelings, the laughter and tears, the rumblings, the nonsense, the hope, and the fluttering anticipation that watches and waits to see what blessings You will pour out this year.

We all need a safe, protected place to just be with Someone who knows every single thought, emotion and the reasons behind each of them.  It is a beautiful, holy and sacred thing to be raw. No holding back – no lengthy explanations and justifications. The whole of our humanity in the presence of the One who created every nuance.  I never fully realized how freeing and breathtakingly intimate it is to be raw in the presence of God. It is sacred ground.

Winter Morning

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

Winter Morning

The sun hasn’t risen up over the foothills yet. My bedroom is dark and in the piles of blankets on my bed I feel cocooned, warm and cozy. There is a cat, possibly two, curled and softly purring at the foot of the bed. I gingerly wiggle and stretch my feet; either cat could wake and attack my moving foot at any time.

Time to get up – there’s lovely hot coffee to make and sip in the quiet, peaceful morning of a silent house. Calm. Soothing.

Coffee in hand, the heat from the mug soaks into my chilly fingers. It feels homey, nostalgic and something else that I can’t quite put my finger on. Anticipation? Expectation?

The lights from the Christmas tree and mantle glow softly and cheerfully in the still-dark living room. The rustic, wooden nativity scene is backlit with a sweet, warm glow from the tiny lights strung along the small side table where it resides. My mind wanders and contemplates all that this sweet and simple scene portray. A Savior born, a young mother’s joy and fear, shepherds’ awe and angel voices. Miracles. Redemption. Love.

A deep fog descended in the early hours of the morning. All is shrouded, misty and ethereal. Sounds are muffled and muted. I still my breathing for just a moment trying to hear the morning bird song and squirrel rustlings through the damp air. All is silent. It’s beautiful, disconcerting and mysterious. I feel all of that in my chest, my mind, and my spirit.

Sipping the warm coffee, I allow my mind to wander, and memories begin to surface. So many memories filter into my mind around the holidays. Ones that are tucked up and away out of sight for most of the year but resurrected as Fall approaches, melds and blends into the frenetic pace and high expectations of Winter holidays. As much as I long for the nostalgia, beauty and excitement of the holidays, there lingers and flits along the periphery those feelings that aren’t so merry and  bright. Ones that call to mind Dr offices, hospitals, blindsiding loss and hurt, dashed expectations and lack luster merriment. There are, of course, the happy, joyful, lovely memories that come out and bring smiles, laughter and warm nostalgic feelings, but they are not alone, and the memories vie for prominence in my mind.

Looking out my back window at the swirly, wisping fog it feels disorienting and unfamiliar, yet beautiful in the covering quietness. I feel safe and wrapped up.

Stepping outside, the brisk chill of the damp air is startling. Breathing deeply, the cold air zings and stings my lungs. Invigorating. Through the mist I see light seeping through as the sun makes its ascent and the rays forge a path in the gloom. It’s calming. It brings a sense of order and relief that not all is murky and diminished; that night and darkness will not last forever – the Light is on its way.  

The Light pierces through the veils of murky shadows and brings hope, joy and comfort. I imagine the awe, fear, anticipation and great hope that the first Light brought to the hills of a sleepy little village so many, many years ago. A Light full of joyful celebration, promises, hope and protection. That Light is still here. It shines, pierces and breaks though fog, darkness and the high, often unattainable expectations we crave during the holiday season.

The Light shows us that hard, sad and lonely memories can co-exist with joy, peace, living in the moment, and merriment. The Light calms the swirling expectations with a peace that passes all understanding. Dark crevices of memory are illuminated with healing and comfort when we give the Light permission to enter into it with us. He was there when the hurts happened. He has never left. He understands where the deep need and high expectations come from, and He delights with us in the silly, happy, fun times that bring joy and a smile to our faces. And He brings hope, so much hope that tells us we are not alone and all will be well. Emmanuel, God with us. The Light in the darkness, Prince of Peace, Mighty Counselor. Always, everywhere and in every season.

A High Rock

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

Wrapped up in her crimson scarf, dark green beanie and brown combat boots, Jasmine makes her way to the dirt road that winds past her home. Tendrils of black hair wisp and flutter around her cheeks and forehead as she walks.

The air is bracing and chilly, but the hot coffee with cream warms her hands through the lidded cup.

The crunching of her boots along the dirt packed road is such a satisfying sound, purposeful with meaning and direction. The rhythmic sound is comforting and familiar and she’s been craving that feeling.

This year has been one of many changes – some welcome and some not, some expected and some blindsiding. The feeling of having no control over her life and the lives of her loved ones weighs so heavily on her raw and tender heart. There seems to be no balance to any of it and she cannot fix, re-route and smooth it over. The helplessness of it all piles up and up and leaves her feeling overwhelmed and so very tired. With every step she visualizes pounding the troubles deep into the dusty country road, imagining the puffs of dirt and tiny pebbles left in her wake floating away on the breeze and disappearing, but they don’t. The troubles just settle onto a different spot in her journey.

As she makes her way along the road Jasmine feels the peace and tranquility of the countryside begin to work its magic. Her tight shoulders and neck release, just a bit, her mind focusing on what’s around her. Birds chatter in the copse of trees just up ahead, down and around the slight bend in the road. There is a bit of marshy land to the right filled with tiny bugs and tasty treats for the morning hunters. It’s a joyful and happy noise these birds and creatures make as they faithfully trust in the Creator to supply their needs. All they need to do is watch, listen and seek out what He has given.

Passing under the branches of the old, gnarled oaks, Jasmine feels the slight change in temperature as the morning sun is temporarily blocked and chill air brushes her exposed neck and face. This is how her heart has been feeling – as if a shadow has fallen over her spirit drowning out the light and warmth, leaving her chilled, shivery and exposed. In this shadowy place she’s lost her perspective. Everything seems obscure and vague with too many unknowns. It isn’t fixable and the way is so hard to see.

On the other side of the oak trees a small trail branches to the right from the main dirt road. As she passes under the trees she feels, almost hears, in the tufted and swaying grasses, an audible sigh beckoning her to veer off and take the path. “Why not?” she whispers.

Curiosity mounting, Jasmine makes her way along the trail. She has traversed this old country lane many times and doesn’t remember this obscure path that’s barely visible through the wildflowers and grasses.  Up ahead it curves off to the left around a cluster of small trees. Once past the trees the path drops down snaking off through the countryside. At the point where the path begins its descent, she sees a cluster of large rocks to the right jutting out like a shelf. There are fragrant flowering bushes around the rock cluster that give it a tucked in feeling. Safe and protected. Fascinated, Jasmine climbs up and sits on the rock shelf. She lets herself breathe in the cool air and feel the warmth of the late autumn sun penetrate her exposed skin. Warmth and protection begin working their way into that shadowy, frozen place in her heart.  It’s such a lovely, cozy, feeling of safety. She hasn’t realized just how frantic and overwhelmed she’s been and how she has missed feeling safe and peaceful.  

Looking at the rock she’s sitting on, she notices bits of dried leaves and finished flower petals from the nearby bushes. They spin and shimmy along in the breeze like random spinners, until they float off the edge of the rock shelf following the breeze on the journey laid out for them. The freedom in these floating petals makes her smile. Oh, to feel so light, so free, so joyful…

The breeze picks up, dancing and whispering through the wildflowers around her rock. She feels a gentle peace descend on her shoulders and thread through her hair. Tears of release that she has so fiercely guarded and held at bay, freely fall and flow down her face, splashing the rock like drops from her heart. Each tear holds the name of one she holds dear, of one she loves and desperately wants to protect, wrap up tight and keep from all harm and violence. But she’s tired, her heart can’t contain all the striving, soldiering on and fixing…it’s beyond what she can do. It rips and pulls at her spirit.

As the cleansing flood of tears subside, Jasmine notices that in the warm, life-giving light of the sun, her tears soak up and evaporate. A hush falls around the rock and a Voice she recognizes speaks into her soul. “I have them now. Their names are engraved on the palms of My hands, as is yours. Their burdens are not yours to carry. I have them and they are safe. I gathered up your tears in a bottle where My breath and My will have transformed them into droplets of peace, joy and beauty. You are safe and hidden in My sanctuary. I have placed you upon a high rock where you will find rest for your world-weary soul. I am a shield about you, you are never alone.”

Her parched spirit soaks up these whispered words and softens. Her troubled, fearful, frantic thoughts slow and dissolve; blown away by the flighty breeze tousling her hair. As she sits on this high rock, safe and tucked away, her heart and soul open up and she has room to breathe. In the place where fear, anxiety and a desperate need to control once dwelled, now courage, bravery and deep joy begin blossoming. Her captured tears have been transformed into fragrant, life-giving water that cleanses and renews all that was lost and broken. She will find beauty again. She is confident of this.

As the autumn sun makes it lazy descent, Jasmine is ready to head back. She isn’t the same person who started out this morning. Her feet feel light and confident as she follows the path back to the main road. The warmth of the setting sun on her back feels so safe, like the protective hand of a Father who is ever vigilant and watchful, who has all things under His control. She really can rest now. “…My presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.”1

  1. Exodus 33:14

Light

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

The first gentle rays of sunrise bathe the cluster of Redwoods in a pale, quiet glow. The forest air is crisp and clean as it sheds the last vestiges of night.

Nature’s early risers watch and wait. They are eager to greet the new day with gossip and chatter. The early light calls them to bring their songs and joy to the new morning. The undergrowth is full of rustles and kicked about leaves as the hunt for seeds and insects begins.

Shadows and light play off of each other illuminating swaths of the leafy forest floor as the sun makes its ascent. Sunbeams filtering through the branches catch and backlight tiny dust motes trapped in the air. It feels supernatural how the rays of light are so concentrated, yet gentle, like a divine spotlight that pierces and penetrates, exposing everything to the pure, beautiful light. Each beam highlights and dances over the branches, trunks and leafy bushes, casting an ethereal and other worldly glow to the waking forest. One might expect angels to move in this mysterious light. Whispers of the divine abound.

The crooked curve of a branch, sharp, rough edges of tree bark, mossy growth and choking poison ivy that entwines as it creeps up the tree trunks are laid bare in the light. Everything stands out in stark relief. Even dead, cracked branches that are brittle, hard and dull are bathed in light and a kind of loveliness is restored. Beauty found in unexpected places…

There are no secrets here. Nothing is hidden. The rough, sharp scars, the dead, ugly pieces, the mossy growths and random vines threatening to suffocate the beauty of the trees, are naked and exposed in the lovely, glowing light. Holy.

Transformation happens in the Light. All is revealed and can be made whole again. We can find beauty in the dead, scarred places when the One who pierces the darkness with His breath, His gaze, and His thoughts turns His eyes to those unlovely parts that we so desperately want to hide. Shame is exposed and covered with grace. Wounds are bound and healed as life and prophesy are breathed over them. He makes beautiful things out of the dark, hidden places. Scars show perseverance and victory, dead places are pruned and healed, curves and bumps become testimony and entangling vines are exposed and burned away in the Light.

His Light can feel harsh, painful and exposing. It takes courage to stand in it and let the Light do its healing work. But the end result will reap untold, eternal benefits. Joy will come in the morning, when the Morning Star covers and bathes our exposed and vulnerable parts with soft, healing, lovely Light.

The Park Bench and the Willow Tree

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

The Park Bench and the Willow Tree

Gentle sunbeams peek through the branches and leaves of the willow tree. The soft light covers one edge of the wooden park bench beneath its branches.

The sun hasn’t been up for long. The spring morning is quiet and cool after a clear and chilly night. The newly budding leaves are vibrant and proud. They take their job seriously as the giver of shade to the bench and those who visit it.

They are a pair, these two, often referred to as the “willow bench” by those who find solace in its shade and peace from the view of the lovely little park. The things they have heard and seen in their years together – laughter and tears, joy and pain, love and heartbreak. Anxiety and fear are lifted and soothed as the Creator’s breath blows healing in the breeze rustling the leaves and cooling the bench-sitter.

His whispered healing is found in bird song, critter antics, fellow bench sitters and simply the peace and quiet where words are not needed; where love flows and tenderly holds the wounds poured out in the freedom found under the sweeping branches.

The willow and the park bench have seen seasons come and go. Spring, with the burst of new growth and gentle light from the sun encouraging park visitors to venture out and soak up the warmth.

The coming of Summer invites families, groups, picnics and summer games of baseball, frisbee throwing and kite flying with the bench and the willow providing shade and rest.

In the Fall, the leaf-peepers and lovers of the season, with their hoodies and warm drinks in hand, walk the park with anticipation of the changing colors and that feeling of slowing down, coziness and letting go that Fall always conjures.

There are less visitors in Winter when the cold descends, and glimpses of the sun are few and far between. The park folds in on itself as the work of deep rest and hidden growth takes place.

Then there are the faithful ones who visit the bench and the willow no matter the season. They have experienced peace and deep rest here. The wooden bench and gnarled willow are old friends who know all the secrets and pining of the heart and accept and embrace it without words. These park-goers have felt the divine whispers and heavenly songs breathed out over them while sitting in nature’s silence. They have allowed the healing and supernatural presence of the Creator to bind up wounds and lift heavy burdens. With ears that hear and eyes that see, what is sought can be found in the most ordinary and beautiful places.

The Creek

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

There is a little hollow with a bubbly creek running through it. You can find it if you listen.

A lovely jaunt through some meadow grasses will get you there.

The gentle willow trees sway and beckon, “Come, and sit a while.”

The only sounds are nature’s chatter and the swish of grasses and wildflower stems as they rustle against booted feet making their way to the water.

A slight dip in the path and you are there.

The gurgling creek splashes happily over some stones and fallen, decaying branches. The rivulets and tiny waterfalls rush and dash through the haphazard obstacle course.

On the opposite side of the creek the paws of the early risers have left their unique imprints. The routine of it is calming to consider.

The bank of the creek is dotted with a variety of wildflowers, all adding their color and charm to the hollow. Small yellow flowers on their tall, leggy stems seem to love the chaos of the breeze that randomly tosses them about. The purple-y blue flowers growing close to the ground create a lovely and fragrant carpet. Bold white flowers lift their faces upward to the patches of sun filtering through the drooping willow branches.

Downstream the water has slowed and taken on a lazy pace. Widening into a small pool that flows gently around the roots of an old tree, one wonders what creek dwellers make this restful pool their home.

At the edge, tiny fish dart in and out of watery shadows and the quick Boatman skip atop the quiet water. The grumpy, red-orange crawdad silently waits under a ledge of roots, motionless and spying.

Little plip-plop sounds come from the far edge of the pool – small frogs perhaps?

The tranquility of nature with its calming rhythms of sound, light and timeless order soothe and quiet a restless soul. The pull of it is ancient and constant.

Accepting the willow trees’ invitation to sit for a while, the weight of all you have been carrying lifts and floats – up, up to One who gives rest and peace. He is there in the light that sifts through the branches giving warmth and safety.  He can be found in the cooling breezes that kiss and skim the skin. The Divine whispers and sings all around you, as He leads you beside the still waters and restores your soul.

Book Release! Divine Appointments…

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

DIVINE APPOINTMENTS…IS LIVE – published and ready to go on Amazon as eBook/Kindle or paperback! It will soon be available at Barnes & Noble online, Books a million, Thriftbooks, Walmart and other online retailers. I cannot wait for you to get a copy in your hands and let me know what you think!!!

Please share and help me get the word out 🙂 You can visit my author page on FB @MelissaGiomiauthor and IG: @melissa.giomi

I am thankful and honored that so many of you have been on this author journey with me for the past 2 years. It means more to me than you know to have support, encouragement and prayers for this book and Divine Encounters…to accomplish what God has planned for them. It has been such a fun and exciting journey and I’m hopeful there are more books to come 🙂

Cheers and happy reading!

Coming very soon!

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

Hi everyone! Divine Appointments…will be live and published this month! Uploading to Amazon as eBook/Kindleand paperback has begun and both will soon available. I cannot wait for you all to get book #2 in your hands!

Thank you so much for the continued support – it is much appreciated and so very valuable to self-published authors.

Cheers!

Summer Night

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

The heat of the day is waning. A light breeze picks up in the late afternoon; its drowsy fingers shushing and weaving through the grasses, trees, and flowers. To the West, the sun begins its descent. It defiantly streaks and stains the blue of the sky with bright oranges and hues of pink as it gives way to the rising half-moon.

One can feel nature slow, sigh and release the energy of day into the quiet mystery of night. Birds make one last flight through the garden, snipping up gnats and other nighttime insects. They light on the bird baths for their last bath and sip of the evening before heading to their nests to cozy down. Safe and snug they await dawn to begin again their songs, flights and feeding.

As the moon rises higher in the darkening sky it is joined by planets and pinprick stars. Some are still quite faint as they wait their turn to burn bright in the night sky when the sun’s afterglow is finished.

As darkness deepens, night-dwellers emerge and begin rustling and creeping through the bushes and grasses, as their time to rise and go about their business has arrived. In the cover of darkness all may seem still and at rest, but it’s not. The business of nighttime is full, robust, and busy. Tiny garden mice gather and feast on the seeds the raucous birds have scattered in their feeding throughout the day.  Their nests are deep underneath the stately ferns and spreading Catmint, giving them excellent cover from the neighborhood cats that hunt and prowl. The cats are part of the night hunters as they stealthily slip between the Lavender, Guara and Sage spying and waiting for an unsuspecting meal.

Fully dark now, the symphony of crickets begins in earnest. It starts with one lone, chirping buzz and is joined by others who’ve been waiting for nightfall to begin their serenade. The crickets are soon accompanied by myriad tree frogs that inhabit the nearby marshy, open space. It becomes a stage for their croaking and singing. The songs are repetitive and peaceful, allowing the mind to disengage and just be.   

Sailing above in a carpet of stars, planets and zig zagging satellites, the half-moon is bright, cold, and austere.  The simplicity of the light and the cold shine of the moonglow quiets and soothes, gentling away the worries and stress of the day. Deep and peaceful.

Nighttime brings with it a sense of mystery and supernatural portent. Sight cannot be relied upon in the dark. Other senses move to the forefront and must decipher the unseen sounds and goings-on of the night. Discernment is heightened – the soul is what sees and hears.

You are there in the nighttime rustle of the tall grasses as Your voice whispers in the breeze – rest and peace are near. You cause the stars to sing their cold melodies as they shine down, the puzzle pieces of their scattering giving direction to the traveler and hope for the lost. Your breath is in the rustling, swooping feathers, and haunting sound of the owl’s call, as it glides unseen through the dark, cool night. You are always near, the Maestro conducting and guiding all of creation in the symphony of life. There is nowhere I can go, where You are not.

Your masterpiece of creation in the still, yet busy nighttime is just as lovely, complex, and healing as in the light of day. There is deep healing, peace, and safety in the dark. It requires us to see and hear with our souls and follow Your whispers and songs, as deep calls to deep and You call us into Your marvelous Light.