I can't place it, figure it out, or contain it. My heart is full and I struggle to describe it.
I often shirk back to comfortable corners - away from the bumps and bedazzled of life - yet it finds me. It fills me and holds me. It told me - long ago - that it would enfold me.
But I wander, not too far or wide, just enough to feel a nagging inside. I can't place it, figure it out, or contain it. My heart is full and I struggle to describe it.
It beckons and woos me. But yet it eludes me ... As I fill every space of margin in my life with things that would consume me.
Then in the stillness I try so hard to avoid, I am met by a comforting presence, so bold.
First a grief for missing out on such precious times - quietly sitting with this Savior of mine.
No words, no words ever need to be said. He hears, he knows - like the number of hairs on my head - my many quirks, the way I can be a jerk, how much I strive and at the same time, lie - about what really matters to me on the inside. And yet He loves me.
This love knows me and accepts me; this love suffered and died for me. And I can't place it, figure it out, or contain it. I just know my heart is full and I struggle to describe it.
