The Quiet Insistence of your Word
What I notice most about this place is the wind, veering and backing into my corner, eddying, gusting, niggling, tangling hair, finding the contours of my face with icy fingers. Yesterday I had a place on the sun. It’s easy to pray with silences, warm light, and sea birds calling. Today is hard. I pull my collar up, and draw my fingers, monk like, into my sleeves. The wind buffets my ears, so I no longer hear your voice in the song of the lark, the flutter of small birds. Lord, do not let this northeast wind, or any other, deafen me to the still, small voice, the quiet insistence of your Word.Alma Hamilton
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