Oh, to be green as the moss is green
To be small as a pebble and round with many washings
To stand straight yet supple, with hollow stem growing in the wet
Or like the water, to mirror heaven
Yet never conceal all that is beneath.

This came from practicing contemplative prayer, silence, solitude. I am beginning to see how these things help the layers come off to reveal the child underneath. It really is a shrinking, a becoming small in the best way. It’s only in being small that I can crawl up into Abba’s lap. He is the smell of wild patience, a triumphant sunshine without shadows. I’m really, really relieved that there are no lies between us. This sense of home is something I am learning to walk toward but also know I carry with me. It is the beautiful paradox of the now and the not yet.