The morning, for me means a pocket of quiet, either peaceful or pensive.
The evening walk finds me seeking, seeking, seeking.
An intentional unraveling, unfolding, disposal of day.
Pushing forward. Heavy walk, no lightness in pace or stride..
Walk feeling like consequence, not reward, some days.
Still, I walk, moving forward to the place of sometimes better for it.
The morning, sometimes the same.
Rote, habitual, methodical list, gratitude becomes cliche, I fear.
Then, walking I remember the morning’s request and pause to ask again.
It bears repeating, beckons for conversation.
Draws me near to God, I pray again.
Waiting, more attentive now, more straightforward and certain of my plea.
Then walk on as if tossed upwards, floating towards blue sky
untroubled then, unburdened, more genuinely submissive.
Then, again, a sweet reply, unexpected quite so clearly and quickly.
I remember then, the evening walk, the morning quiet.
The reasons why.
The joyous being heard, being known despite frailties or frustrations.
“Wait and see.”.
You are the God who sees me.
I have now seen the One who sees me. Genesis 16:13