Time stood still, a deep inward groan somehow managing to drown out the sounds of my kids at play in the backyard and pull me from the dinner preparations sprawled before me, half-readied.
The ache that leaves me immobile at times.
He came in the hunger, a deep groan, though He had to remind me – because I forgot all over again – that this was His coming, that the longing is not a sign of His absence, but proof of His presence.
Hunger for more of Him, for a greater entrance and a breaking open into a deeper knowing of His heart arrived in waves and I found myself at my kitchen sink in a groan that bore the weight of its age – for this is no new inkling I’ve set my sights on. It’s a wanting heavy with history.
We’ve been here before. Yet [Continue reading this post over here—>]