Monday, October 10


The streetlights were still on as I made my way to my car.

It was hushed, quiet dawn-
the kind that gets earlier and darker with the coming of winter.

The roads were deserted and
I liked the feeling of being the only one awake. 

Pink bled into yellow bled into sunrise.

I can mark my life in watching sunrises- from a trailer in Mississippi, to a beach in Virginia, to railroadtracks in Seattle, back around to the still streets of my hometown.

The sunrise has always carried with it
the idea that God will take care of me.


That all the past days I've been taken care of, and this present day I will be taken care of, and with the next sunrise, I'll be taken care of, too.  That God knows what I need, even when I don't.
"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you...let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid."

-John 14:27-29 
I find more comfort and stillness
and passion in the words of Jesus
than in any book I've ever read.

In the known, and in the unknown.
In the past, in the present, and in the future.
In sunrises, and in the sunsets.  In the moments where everything is coming together, and the moments where everything is falling apart.

In where we are, in where we're going.
And everything in between.

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