I watch a man in church. He stands with his wife, a young boy between them. The boy looks to be about the same age as our granddaughter. I think that they’re his grandparents, but I don’t know. The man’s hand rests gently on the boy’s shoulder.
I catch a glimpse of the boy’s red-rimmed eyes. He has been crying, he is crying still. The man looks down. He cups the boy’s head in his hand and draws him close. The boy looks up, then leans in to receive the comfort. There’s something extraordinary about the moment.
I think about how this is the way it is with me and my God too. A hand on my shoulder, drawing me near when I need to be drawn near.
And God speaks.
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I invite you to stop by the Inscribe Writers Online blog, where I posted recently about a desire to write that comes naturally, but not always easy.