God gently prods me awake, two days in a row. In the darkness I’m out, when wide awake with a feeling.
Time to get up.
I ignored it yesterday. I kept resting uneasy, turning over and over with the same thought pushing in. Get up. When I finally swung my feet down to the carpet, it felt like failure. I knew I had missed something. I wonder on young Samuel, missing it at first.
This morning, there it was again.
It’s all I’ve heard so far. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be doing. Writing? Praying? Listening?
But here I am, so close to the dark pushing in from the windows, one table lamp to dispel the darkness, and coffee/blanket/screen/words. Every breath a prayer, senses wide awake and gathering.
Sometimes holy ground is born of obedience. I know this.