God who is what I need,
The door creaks open, the first sound to emerge since I sat down at the kitchen table. The house is still dark. The sun is still working on rising. His feet walk slowly, carrying a tired boy to his mommy’s lap. Eyes squinted, he climbs into my lap and curls up so that I might hold all of him. For a few quiet moments, I am his refuge.
God who is my refuge, I find you in the same way. In the morning while all is still quiet, ancient words draw me up into the lap of the divine One whose refuge is as real as arms wrapped around me.
What I need, you are. Let that be enough.