As I sit in my office, Nichole Nordeman’s eloquent words quietly pace through my mind. “I am” she says. Each one seems to speak separately, as I take them in. This particular talent for writing would be considered anointed, I think.


I sit here and write. I sit here confused and wondering. This writing, an expression of what, I don’t know, and to whom, I’m not sure. Writing, it’s something I’ve grown up hating, but have grown to love. This information is beginning to become useful. What do I love? Not what other’s love, for my sake, but what do I love? I can name a few, but they seem to be independent, with little in common.


I’ve accepted the fact that I don’t need to know what will happen along the way, only what direction I am pointing. For I am sure of my destination, and I rest in that peace, but the planning, human side of me wants to talkback in question. He wants to ask for a plan, for answers, for just a little more light on the situation than I’ve been given at this moment.



So I sit here and wait. I wait on …


I bow my head, submit to who I know is truly in control, and make decisions only in the light He mercifully chooses to shed. I meander through desires, feelings, dreams, emotions, and personal plans with only one intent.





I fall. I rest, in the consuming fire. A beautiful surrender wraps me as He holds.
My heart fills with hope from time spent with Him.

This is what He was looking for.

A moment in the day, when I remember