What do you do, what can you do when He beckons?
The restlessness, the dissatisfaction of the status quo, a passing of the world in solemn soundlessness. Is this finally the death of me? As I lay dying to myself, to my self idolatry and pride, I can hear the laughter of the child within me. The innocence and sweetness that knew Your presence, somehow, even before I knew Your Name. The wondrous things you had revealed to me were clues to my growing curiosity in the discovery of You, through your mysteries revealed… Yet, where are you taking me now?
To where, my God? To where, my Love?
To where?
What have I that You would love, that You would not let go? Foolish wishes to be enough, to have enough, to matter, all amounting in the layers of pain, of suffering, of skinned knees, and finally to walk as a feeble child, happy yet uncontrollably unstable, stumbling unsteadily, falling, failing. Sometimes feeling so immobile, not even wanting to get up. Yet I know I must! You have not made me to crawl nor be content with this ground, this earth, and these mud pies.
You made me for Joy! You made me.
The Mountain's King 