It happens every now and then; getting lost; and I need to find my bearings again, the true and sure things, including my best "me," which sometimes goes missing in action.
I need to find home, that place of retreat and security, where I know and am known. Home safe.
I pick up my pen and write. A heart can pour through pen to page and in doing so find such sweet relief.
I quiet my restless soul and sit silent.
I read the words I need to soak me; to soften me; to move my heart back to kindness, gentleness and humility.
I close my eyes to listen better--just in case God might have something to say. He sometimes speaks against the background tick of clock, whirring chimes and the hum of a house.
I hear a welcome. Welcome home.
And I am grateful; to be enfolded in the grace that only waits for an open heart.