The morning lies on the brink of light as I open His book. He joins me there, guiding my hungry eyes to truth; my thirsty heart to living water.

He meets me in my questions, never dismissing them or me, the doubter. I am safe in the asking. He draws me out from my fortress of assumptions to seek His ways; to soften before them, examine my heart with gradually opening hands as the dawn filters through the woods outside my window.

All my longings lie open before you, Lord; my sighing is not hidden from you.

Psalms 38:9

Ben wakens for a kiss and a cup of milk and the day rushes in, chores and appointments and the nagging question of dinner; and I may forget, but am not forgotten. I am safe within the circle of His knowing. Held within the promise of His love.

Our days are meant for His fellowship, going beyond our daily devotions to include the rest of our moments and hours, pleasures and annoyances, suffering and rest. We are invited to live in His always accessible presence. Do we?

I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you. Before long, the world will not see me anymore, but you will see me. Because I live, you also will live. On that day you will realize that I am in my Father, and you are in me, and I am in you.

John 14:18-20

There is a narrow existence many choose, living in the tight bubble of Christianity. Circumscribed by fear or disdain for what lies outside. We can settle there, sharp boundaries chafing against the edges of our dreams. Or we can taste the freedom of walking with Him into the world’s darkness, as was His habit, and in the wild adventure of joining the vast palette of humanity, as is our future.

When we live in His presence rather than imagining ourselves under His thumb, possibilities tumble in—frightening, exhilarating, wonder-filled or painful, but meaningful. Purposeful. Real.

Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.

2 Corinthians 3:17

I have tasted and seen that the Lord is good, whether heaving with grief in a darkened bathroom, or chasing laughing children in a sun-warmed meadow; quietly losing hope or holding prayers and answers in wonder and joy. Endings and beginnings blending into beautiful purpose, each breath counted towards the glorious fulfillment of it all.

I ready myself for bed, watch the moon rise over the winter woods. Whisper words of gratitude as I settle under the covers. Darkness and light are alike to Him, the Bible says. And when I wake, I am still with Him. Ready to meet the companionship and possibilities of a new dawn. Knowing that the safest place is here, with Him, come what may.