Lavender Haze

The purple haze is all around me now

not a mist that confuses,

not a shadow that hides,

but a holy radiance,

thick with mercy,

soft as hands laid gently on my skin.

It wraps me the way warmth does

after rain has washed the dust from everything

when the world exhales

and remembers how to breathe.

The last time I saw Your face

I was running.

Not from fear,

but from longing

barefoot on surrendered ground,

laughing because my chest could not contain the joy,

breathless because love was pulling me faster

than my body could keep up.

I ran through a lavender field

where violet waves bowed low in worship,

each stem bending like it knew You were passing.

Their fragrance rose

not as scent alone,

but as prayer

lifting, offering, ascending

into a sky that felt close enough to touch.

Now the lavender no longer belongs only to the fields.

It has found its way into me.

It lingers in my mornings,

before the world asks anything of me.

It settles into the hush before sleep,

where my soul finally stops performing.

It pulses in the quiet between heartbeats

those sacred pauses where life is held together

by nothing but Your will.

Your presence is the purple haze.

And I am here.

Oh God, I am here.

No longer searching the horizon,

no longer straining my eyes for proof.

I do not chase Your face anymore

because I feel You

in the air filling my lungs,

in the way each breath arrives faithful and unearned.

Near.

So near it humbles me.

So near it undoes me.

Purple was never a color I loved.

Once, it meant nothing

just another shade passing through my sight.

But now it is the banner of Your Spirit above me,

royalty woven into the heavens themselves.

It is authority without cruelty,

power without distance.

Grace is poured thick like oil over my head,

slow and intentional,

finding every wound I tried to hide.

Your peace rests on my shoulders

like something I was always meant to carry.

Your healing reaches into the cracks of my bones

the places even I forgot

and breath returns to me.

Deep. Steady. Free.

I can breathe again.

I can finally breathe.

I am dancing.

Not for spectacle,

not to be seen

but because joy has weight,

and my body must answer it.

I am dancing in this lavender place

where gladness rises from the soil like music,

where the ground itself seems to rejoice.

My feet barely touch the earth

because my soul is already lifting,

already responding to heaven’s pull.

The trees drip with violet light,

as if glory has soaked into their bark.

Their leaves tremble, whispering Your name

not loudly,

but with the certainty of those who know You.

Flowers brush my ankles as I pass,

soft as benedictions,

and every petal feels like a promise

You never forgot to keep.

This place is heaven.

Not distant.

Not postponed.

But unfolding inside my chest

quietly, reverently.

Sweet.

Holy.

Alive.

You are my sweet Adonai,

and Your nearness becomes a river within me,

flowing where fear once lived.

Even the river runs purple

liquid light,

heavy with reflection of Your glory.

It sings as it moves,

a low, eternal sound,

and it wraps around my heart

until the ache loosens its grip.

Until all that remains is relief

deep, sacred relief

like being held

after a lifetime of storms

you never thought would end.

Your royalty fills this place

crowning the hills,

flooding the valleys,

settling gently upon my brow

not as a burden,

but as belonging.

And suddenly I understand.

I am not merely standing in Your presence.

Your presence is living in me.

Breathing in me.

Loving through me.

I am home.

I am whole.

I am surrounded.

And I am dancing

because You are here.