We sat together on a park bench and talked about things we sure of. I told him that aside from God being real I was not quite sure of anything. He agreed. We sat without speaking and after an awkward moment, because we were not used to being silent around one another, I commented on the perfectness of the weather that evening. Again he agreed. When I looked at him his eyes met mine and in that moment, I saw more than I ever expected to see. I knew right then, that I was sure of something else. His friendship was divinely appointed in my life.

On my way
towards you
Not sure of this water beneath my feet
Are my eyes wide open
Or has blindness suffered my ignorance
I'm looking for a new day
Take me there
Sweet presence of God, take me there

Some days, you just keep walking.

I'm changing. Inevitable, I know. This season of my life has been approaching for some time. I have been learning what I am not, and now I am learning what lies in the depths of my heart. For the first time tonight, sharing my heart with someone else did not matter. All I could do was cry out to God. I don't think I could have explained what I was going through to anyone. I don't think I could have been comforted even if they had understood. God was the only one I wanted to hear from. He was the only one who could answer the questions and meet the desires that I could not even fully express. It is Him who will arm me with strength and make my way perfect.

He told me he loved me today. It was in the midst of tears that I heard his words. Because my circumstances now are the results of choices that I have made, they were tears of regret and pain, tears that told of my frustration for the way things had turned out to be.

I want so much to please him. But do I want to please him for my own good or for the mere fact of blessing his heart? Is pleasing him my way of gaining self satisfaction and security or do I really long for him to smile and to feel as if I genuinely care about HIM. "How pure are my motives?" I wonder.

I find every day that I cannot live without him . I have to know what he thinks. I have to hear him laugh. And so, the things that I loved before, the things that I valued are fading. And it hurts.

Because I have made a choice, something has to die. But I would die if I did not choose him. I am sure of that. And today, when he said "I love you", I knew he saw the hurt, I knew he saw the battle for my heart. And then I was sure that he really did love me. Because love sees the hardness and the flaws and the turning away and yet it chooses to press on. Love chooses to continue walking through to the other side. Love is hope for another day, when the hurts will be healed and the choice that seemed wraught with death was the choice that ultimately restored life.

So I decided today, that I would press on. I decided to wait for the promises he has made. In the deaths of this past season he has brought life to me and I can see no other choice but him. I am leaving people and places and desires behind me. But I know that choosing his love is going to be worth it all.

I love him too.

Recently I have reconnected with an old friend. I am unsure of the reason I had for purposely ignoring her for so long. Perhaps I could not bear to express the words I knew she would hear from me. Perhaps I could not find the strength to pick her up and listen to her song. I knew she would not sing if I did not ask her to and although I did not mind her silence, I very much missed her sound.

There was a sound inside of me that I missed. To this day I cannot decide if it was misplaced pride or an overwhelming weakness that kept me from the song I longed to sing. Truthfully, both of these reasons are really one and the same. The first day I picked up my guitar I tried to remember where it was that I had left off. I tried to pick through old songs, I tried to strum. I tried to remember the emotion and the desire. The second day I attempted to discipline myself again to the technicalities of the instrument. I read notes, played scales, memorized extra chords. By the third day I was tired of trying to achieve some sort of excellence. I realized that I could not play alone.

Worship. The definition of this word has changed for me over the past year; or rather my practice of the definition. I cannot play the songs I used to play. I cannot even stir the desire of what used to be there. There is a new song to sing and I am crying out to know His heart. A new season has finally come. As I sit in the secret place, I am training my hands for war.