I love people.
I love the light in their eyes when they laugh uproariously at a joke that reminded us all of that one time some years ago that brought light to our memory. I love the way that they think, musing the world and examining it's treasure, as if trying to determine its true worth, and their own. I love their brief glimmers of mischief and their glimpses of childlikeness that confound the wise and make them believe in something greater. I love longsuffering love of an old friend, one that has loved long and never lost the road.
But I also love silence. I love the quiet that allows Heaven to speak, the calm after the storm when you crash on your couch, pour yourself a peach tea and eat some pretzels, and think one beautiful thought at a time. I love early mornings without a soul, breathing in the clean, clear air of clarity. The nights when the frogs croak and the air is cool and the only light is the one from your dim laptop screen, when He comes and sits next to you and speaks life like a River rushing over dry land.
I love you so, Jesus. I love the way you come every time.
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