Even Here.

I have had this nagging headache for days now. My picture frames are off center behind my head right now. And that's making it worse. So, I came to bed. Turned off the lights and drank up the darkness, letting it wash this headache out of me. Yet, as so often happens, I could not stay down for long because words wriggled their way to the front of my imagination and demanded to be put to music and jotted down on the nearest piece of paper at hand. I love those times. When the Lord reveals my heart to me. Odd, to put it that way, yes. But truly I cannot tell you how I just don't feel the reality of what I'm feeling at times. I just don't think of it. I just push it back. I sweep it under the rug. Or, like a little kid, hide it under the bed, or in the closet. It's not on the surface, these thoughts, worries, burning desires. But that doesn't mean they aren't there. Writing is my release. Writing is my running. And it's amazing how He can meet me here. Even here. In this room, in the dark and wash over me, romance me. Make me feel. It's craziness.