I have had something on my mind.
I find myself wanting to take a piece of what I believe and give it to someone who does not believe, so they will know. It pulls and tugs at me.
Of course, it isn’t that easy. We cannot take it out and hand it over. We can only tell our story. We can only be who we are. We can only love.
I found myself humming a song this morning. Just a piece of a song. Then, I realized the words that accompanied the sweet melody.
And, He walks with me
And He talks with me
And He tells me I am his own
And the joy we share as we tarry there
None other has ever known
In the Garden. My favorite version is recorded by Merle Haggard. Tissues, please.
I come to the garden alone. He taps on my shoulder and speaks to me, “Sister, I know you know me. You hear me. You hear my message. You know I love you.” While the dew is still on the roses. In the peace of the morning, when all is calm and still. And the voice I hear falling on my ear. The voice of the only, the one, my Father. The song of God declares. He has been with me so very long. As long as I can remember.
He speaks and the sound of His voice. I hear so clear. There is no other. Is so sweet the birds hush their singing. They know. They are his creations. And the melody that He gave to me. I want to sing it to others. Within my heart is ringing. Can you hear it?
I hope so. I do.