The Cool Quiet Speaks Volumes

When I arise, and it's the middle of the night as they say,

really the earliest of the morning. I just can't sleep, maybe because, who cares.

I touch the shoulder of my best gift, and head to the living room.

I lay on the floor and think of the One who gave me the one who was beside me.

I think of the two gifts called Caitlin and Connor that are in bed, whose audible breathing blesses me, and remember those children who are unwanted and unloved.

I think of the bags of fur named Sammie, Tux, and Lola. Love without strings.

I look up at a ceiling under the roof. His gift to us.

I think of the church, and those who must sneak to church a world away. I think of those who sneak in back doors, unaware, they're worth sacrifice.

I think of the dinner I ate, and the hungry baby.

I think of the shower I'll take and those who need water to drink.

I think of my coffee, and the ones who would find my morning cup a gift.

I think of the closet filled with clothes, and remember we are to clothe those without.

I think of the Pickup outside, waiting to take me where I choose, and the ones willing to walk across any border for relief.

I think of those that love me and those whom I love, and those who don't have anyone to love and don't feel loved.

I think of the Lord, and I say simply, "Thank you."

Again and again.

He knows.