I have always liked the comfort of sameness. I have sought it and drawn strength from it, choosing the peace of predictability over the possibility of unforeseen circumstances.  It sounds like the chicken way out, I know, but it works for me and that’s what matters. It’s when I’m at my best and I hear His voice.

• Mornings looking out my window to field and grove, taking in sky and birds at the feeder, the pair of doves on the power line, the occasional passing of cars, reading Utmost and the Word—thinking, writing, watching.
• Vacations to the same place where I always find my smile and my heart expands in wonder as I breathe in the beauty of gentle waves, an unhindered horizon and blue beyond imagination.
• Trips to the mountains to hear the familiar laughter of my one true friend, who I’ve known all of my life, even when time and distance separated us—the sister by choice who remembers the child I was.

Today is a new day opening before my very eyes,
a new page, perhaps a new chapter in the book of my life
that began with You when the worlds were made.
It is not a slate washed clean
but a fresh new page that awaits Your Hand.
Will I ignore tomorrow what You write today,
choosing my words of limited power
over Yours that have no end?
Will I glory in Your Words — or revel in my own?
When I look back someday at what I have written,
will I wonder what it was all about,
or will this day be written on the halls of my heart
where You abide with me?
Will I rejoice in bended knee at sin expressed,
at contrite heart at sin confessed?
When someday I read this day,
will it be as fresh as this crisp morning?
O Holy Father, write this day for me — indelibly —
on this sometimes resistant human heart that waits
to hear Your Voice saying, “This is the way, walk ye in it.”