When God Comes for a Visit

Sometimes, when I’m afraid, or stressed out, or a bit discouraged, I hear God tap, tap, tapping on the door of my heart. Or, He just peeks in through that little window of my soul and I look up to see Him smiling kind, so I invite Him in.

I invite Him in because He won’t stand there long, for He’s not the sort to pester. He’s quite respectful that way. I mean, I could easily choose to ignore His gentle rapping, and off He’d go, down the lane. He never barges in. And He never huffs and puffs as He turns or guilts me through the window with a glare.

And when I invite Him in, He comes in cheerfully and He’s a little chatty so we sit at the table and I pour up the tea.

He’s got this smile as He waits for me to catch His gaze, and then He leans back in His chair and says it tender, between gulps of Earl Grey, “Maggie, I noticed you were awfully afraid and worried, and it’s been messing up your day.” I nod, knowing He knows me full well, and He points out the light across the floor, “Did you notice all the artwork that I made?” 

Before I know it, I’ve forgotten about my fears and I’m admiring sunbeams and all the light and beauty around me–the handiwork He’s made. He helps me clean the dishes and I can tell He’d like to stay.

We scrub up the pots and He never asks to see my to-do list or to approve of my “goodie-two-shoes tally sheet.” He doesn’t even question how good I’m doing at my “spiritual life” because He’s not just interested in my spiritual life, but my whole entire life. He aims to redeem it, all of it, starting here with this moment, in this day.

And since I very much enjoy His Presence, I ask if He’ll please stay.  And He does. But only as long as I’d like Him too. He won’t outlast His welcome. He’s such a gentleman that way.  

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