Dusky violet in the east, warm coral in the west, goldenrod between up to the shadowy treeline: early autumn's palette. This is the backdrop of my walk, a walk with the One who hears even what I cannot put into words. I sang to the soul-less fields, filling their air with my own battered soul.
I have come to understand that God speaks to me through light. He uses His word, other people and music a great deal to tell me what I need to do, but when He reminds me of His love, it is through light. I see a shooting star, and I feel overwhelmed by His love. When the slant of the sunset light is just right, glowing through the goldenrod or between the grasses, I feel His love. When I see the sunrise, piercing the misty morning, I feel loved. I see the overlapping leaves of mid-afternoon filtering the strong sunlight, or the stars winking in the navy darkness, and I feel the love that I know He gives.
It is from His word I know He loves me, but in His creation, His artwork, I feel His love. The brush of the wind sometimes feels like the brush of His fingertips across my cheek, and the warmth of the sun gently rests as His hand might on my head, reminding me that He sees me when I feel most unseen.
"He is jealous for me..."
