Abba Father

You are limitless and know all. I am but a humble babe in the woods, looking for your bread crumbs on the path that leads to your godly ways. Sometimes, the crows pick up what you have left for me and I lose the trail; that is when I take my eyes off the path and begin looking at the trees, all around me.  The arrows, painted brightly there, they point straight ahead, assuring me that I have not lost the path. When rain has washed the arrows all but away, the faded markers have me questioning again, whether the path is still straight ahead? In my doubt, I see and hear the rustling of leaves, directly above. They seem to whisper, carry on, I am still with you. Every once in a while, the wind shifts, and it sounds as though the whisper is off in the distance and the rustling is muted: I cannot make out the words. This is when I notice that I must look straight up, beyond the canopy, past the rustling, further still from the tree markings, and the crumbs that trail. 

Eyes that take in the light

In my looking up, I see the Son, in all the glory that shines from Him. My eyes must adjust to the light, the brilliance filling me to the point of rapturous rupture. But wait, cloud covering threatens my vision and dimness casts shadows and I have to wonder, are you hiding from me Father? How am I too see when you have hidden yourself from me? I am blind Lord, blind…

I close my eyes. There, there you are… the light has not gone out, I see it in the stillness and feel it in my soul. You are limitless and know all and you are the path. 

You are the path.