“There is not a limit to my love. There is not a limit to my capacity to hold all things. There is not a limit of energy, of time, of possibility. Not for me. All things begin and end with me. What questions do you have for me—about the world? About your heart? About your hurts and distress? What are you hoping will change? What are you enjoying and wish you enjoyed more…”

“I want you to go deeper with me, into me. I want to show you the place where you belong, the place where you have always known but forgotten. I want to show you the way home. I am here, with a map. I am here, with a hand. I am here, with a chest to lean against. I am here, with love that moves the oceans, blows the wind, makes the flowers grow. I am here, with a capacity to love you like no one has. I am the voice you've always known. I am the family you are meant to have. I am the friend you deserve. I am the hiding place that keeps you safe…”

“You have come a long way, journeyed far, and I have not forgotten you. Your toil is not in vain. Your energy to create and learn and serve blesses me; I love it when your heart is full of gratitude for all that you have been given. I delight in your efforts—your true heart to grow and take on challenges. I have made you to accomplish great things, beautiful things—things that bring healing to people, things that bring restoration to you…”

“I feel your resignation, the heaviness. I feel your lack of hope—that good can come, that life holds any promise, any joy. I feel your sadness. I feel your doubt—and yet you deny it, push it down, try meagerly to keep going, one foot in front of the other, to get through another day…”

“Sometimes, in a mental fog, you have trouble seeing me and hearing me. It can be discomforting. And emotionally, you wander about, lost in pain.You feel disordered, distracted. How do you find your way to me then? How do you find my comfort and hope? How do you wake up from your slumber, your way of getting through a day just trying to survive…”

“I have the ones you love. I have your heart. I know all your good, beautiful plans for them. The details. The ideas for how you hope things should go. I know you feel fragile because of these dreams you have for them, your desires that have become a part of you. You hold them out to me and fear to fully give them up…”

“You want to talk about glory? You want to talk about what it is and how you receive it and how I experience it through my love for you? Do you want to know why it is beautiful? Do you want to know why I love it and why I desire it? Do you want to know why I gave it—and why I give it—to you…”

“I know you’re tired. It’s okay. How about you pause here, let yourself feel the tiredness rather than ignoring it and pushing on? I know there are so many things to do--so many things you feel you must do. But how about you take a deep breath now? How about you pause and consider what it is your heart really needs? What it is you are aching for? What it is you fear? What it is you desire, in this moment, more than anything else…”

“I see you, your feet free to walk. Each step is purposeful. And you don’t worry where each step takes you. You know where you are going, trusting in what you can’t see…”

“I see you, how you want to gather close to me. I love that you’re here. I love that you want to listen. I love that you want to watch. I love that you want to study me, notice how I do things and wonder about why I do them. I love that you want an open heart…”

“Can you see us? How we’re climbing? Put your foot here. Let me help you feel secure. Test out that footing. Is it strong enough to hold you—make you feel safe? Do I make you feel safe…”

“Sometimes we don’t have to talk. When you are with me, it is okay to be quiet. I hear your prayers, the deepest pleas and questions. But although I hear them, I wonder if you are hearing them too. What I mean is, are you being quiet enough—with me, with yourself, to know what it is you think and feel and know…”

“Will you come? Will you see me in front of you, asking you if you will come? Let yourself imagine me now. Take a breath. Relax. Let yourself see me and hear me. For I am before you now, asking you if you want to come with me…”

“Come close now. It isn’t an idea, this closeness. It isn’t a physical space either. It is a leaning in of the heart—a leaning toward me, a desire to be with me, a yearning for my company…”

“You are not dried up, spent, with no idea where to turn. That is not you. That is not true. I have dreams for you that you have not heard. Remain in me, stay close to me, and you shall hear me speak.

“I am with you, in the quiet, when you feel completely alone. And I am with you on the days that feel like they are galloping past you, making you bewildered—exhausted and confused. …”

“You ask me what concerns me, how I hold the world. You look up and out and think about my capacity to hold all things, be in all things, be measured by all things…”

“Does it feel like it has been awhile . . . since we have talked? Time is different for me than for you. I am aware of how you feel time, how you record it. And I know you feel like you have been missing me. That is okay. You turn toward me, and I run to you. I love you so…”

“It is difficult to persevere when your focus is on your problems. It is difficult to have energy, be excited, have momentum, make any forward movement that feels like it matters, when the focus is purely on you. The colors in the room where you are now. . .do you see them? The sky I painted for you, the air I breathed for you . . . the cool breeze on your skin, the rhythm of waking and sleeping, eating and resting, playing and working, I have made all these things for you…”

“Let it all go now, child. Let me gather you under my wings. Let me shoulder your pain. Let me give you strength. My perspective frees you from worry. Come here…”