Out of the Woods
colored pencil on watercolor paper
There are seasons in life when it seems all we can do is breathe. Word prayers that usually pour out come molasses-slow in dribs and drabs, or spin around in a tangled mess. There are times when you go to bed bone-weary and right before you fall off, anxious thoughts come to steal the covers, and all your shortcomings line up at the foot of the bed to mock. There are nights when all you can do is whisper, "Father, are you there?"
And then, in the dark, I hear You smile. "Let's change the subject," You say. "I have secrets I want to tell, things I only tell a friend. I have plans," You say. "So let's tuck in." Together we spirit-talk. And like the psalmist, I know that if I made my bed in the depths of hell, You are there. Then You tuck me in. Blessed sleep, and ready for another day.
"I will praise the Lord who counsels me,
My heart also instructs me in the night seasons."
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