Fields of Blue

In the corner of my room,

I settle into my recliner..

It’s my little hidden place

where the world grows quiet

and heaven feels close enough for me to reach.

My Bible rests open,

my studies scattered across my lap,

and somewhere between the turning of a page

and the whisper of a prayer,

I hear them.

Singing.

Not loudly.

Not like a choir demanding to be heard,

but so softly that one may not take the moment to notice… 

It brushes against my ears

like the gentlest touch,

a sound so tender

it almost tickles.

So there, I close my eyes.

And the crickets begin their worship

outside my walls,

their little voices rising

through the darkness of the night.

And suddenly

I am surrounded.

Not by noise, but by the very peace I’ve been neglecting to come back to. 

Behind my closed eyes,

little spheres of light begin to dance.

Flickering and floating..

Appearing and disappearing

like a thousand fireflies

caught between earth and heaven.

Tiny stars

with nowhere to be

but here.

And I sit still.

Because there are places

where you don’t need to understand

what you’re seeing.

You simply need to behold it.

It always amazes me

the things God allows me to see

when I am quiet enough

to notice…

My room has completely disappeared.

I am standing in a field.

Blue flowers rise around me,

tall and gentle,

their faces lifted toward the sky

as though they, too,

know where their help comes from.

And there I am in the distance…

not the woman who carries responsibilities, or who has learned to be strong and is always trying to get it right.

I am a little girl.

And He is there.

My wonderful Heavenly Father.

I reach for His hand

and find His finger.

Just one.

And somehow

that is enough.

He spins me around

and I laugh.

A real laugh.

The kind that doesn’t know fear and shame.

The kind of laughter that doesn’t wonder how it sounds to anyone else.

I dance and He dances with me.

And for a moment

I don’t have to explain myself.

I don’t have to be careful.

I don’t have to prove

that my heart is good.

I don’t have to become anything.

I am simply

His daughter.

And He is simply

my Father.

The flowers sway around us.

The blue stretches endlessly beneath us.

And His hand holds mine

as though He has always known that I would reach for it.. 

Maybe this is what peace is… Not the absence of sound, but knowing whose voice is underneath it all.

The angels singing.

The crickets crying out into the night.

The little lights dancing

behind my eyelids.

The laughter of a little girl

spinning through a field of blue.

And somewhere in the quiet,

God reminds me…

I was never created

to spend my whole life

trying to become worthy

of being held.

I was created

to be held.

So I sit again

in the corner of my room,

my Bible open,

my heart quiet,

and I listen.

A tear falls from my eye and brushes against my cheek… 

It’s been too long since I allowed myself to feel Him.

Sometimes God lets you become a little girl again, 

not because you are weak, but because He wants you to remember…

Before you were strong, you were His.

Before you tried carrying the world, He carried you. 

And sometimes, when the room grows quiet enough…

He reaches down and lets you find His finger again. 

And you realize you never stopped being His little girl..