not by myself

My intuition almost never fails me.  Whether or not I listen to it is another issue entirely.  But there is a space in my heart reserved for the warnings, the encouragement, the quiet whispers.  Therein lies the truth and the voice of the Spirit.

Within just a few minutes last night, while washing dishes, I experienced intervention.  In a way long unfamiliar to my heart.  I sat back, forearms deep in dish water, and watched.  Familiarity soothed and unexpectedness startled.  Well, hello.

How dare you?  Come now, after all this time.  Why choose now, tonight?

But I knew the answer.  And I knew the difference.  Between the times before and this one.  I know, even as light rises this morning, why He stepped in.  With words, "I adore you.  You are my daughter.   You are so special to me."

No condemnation.  Just a quick reminding in my forgetting.  Draw the line, write in the sand.

Love wins.

In all my lost hope, I repeatedly lose my vision.  Like a camera, in and out of focus.  My depth of vision is blurred and shallow.  Yesterday, floundering in my own mess, I reached out.  In defeat, I found joy.

"If I can't find anyone to marry me, Dad, will you help me raise little African boys?"

"Sure".

Perhaps I needed to hear that more than anything.  More than from a twenty-something, big, dark skinned boy.  Just tell me, again and again if you must, that I will not have to do this alone.  This life.  This mission.

Just not by myself.