It doesn’t take years of studying, or a poet’s catharsis, or a candle-lit ambience to have a moment of profundity.

In fact, it doesn’t even take profundity.


You know what it takes?  It takes six surrendered hearts and an old Buick, when the moment is just right and hearts are quieted, when minds are open to new revelation and there are no expectations at all.

Say I went on a magical quest to find a beautiful thing, and found it.  What a tragedy it would be if I could only recount the finding of the thing, and not the thing itself?

“Elizabeth, you were looking for Me all day in the places you wanted to find Me. But I was there all along, and I was waiting for you to find Me in the places I wanted to reveal Myself to you.”

…and instantly, the day was redeemed.  The Father of Wholesomeness never stops making me whole.



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