In the evening when I am tired God says, “Come sit with me.”
I speak about the little things that have happened to me during the day and I know I am heard. I share my fears, angers, doubts, and sorrows, and I feel like I am being held. I smile with what energy I have left and I am gently teased.
Then when all the conversation is over and the day has been opened up and emptied out, I am ready to rest. Nothing is solved. Nothing is under control. But also nothing pressing remains.
But as I go to sleep a fleeting thought breaks the smooth surface of my peace: What would I do each night if God didn't say, “Come sit with me.”?
