Singing in the Dark

I am grateful for pockets full of warm memories: my sister & I digging in the sandbox under the oak until mosquitoes drove us inside at dusk, gathering lilacs with Dad and bringing them home for Mom, playing Poo Sticks from the bridge at the edge of "The Open Space" (the play area at the edge of our trailer park), and pretending on keen days that the half-fearsome tug of my kite against the spool in my fist was a medieval falcon answering my commands.

I am grateful for the smiles of children today: the exuberance of their play, their happy shrieks and unfettered laughter. I am grateful for blossoms: on my geranium, in the neighbors' yards, on the bushes and trees. I am grateful for tea and good news and beauty hiding like Easter eggs all around our world.

I am grateful for a God Who cannot be eclipsed or threatened by my changing moods: Who knows me better than I know myself, Who every moment sees each cranny of my soul and somehow loves me more than I will ever understand, Who holds my hope for forgiveness and redemption and tomorrow.

I am grateful that He hears me singing in the dark and knows that I am afraid. I am grateful that I cannot--and need not--hide from Him.