Every now and then, I get that "writing feeling." Though I am not sure of what causes it, I know that I must immediately transcribe my words or the familiar urge will quickly fade and the moment will pass. It is early but I lay, quietly, on my clean sheets, propped up on one elbow under the faint breeze of my cheap white ceiling fan. I am editing an article written by my author-father (something we enjoy together).

The velvet voice of Marvin Gaye comes as an unexpected surprise through the radio, "Let's get it on..." I am instantly there-in my happy place, if you will.
*Note that the song has NOTHING to do with my Father, nor does it have ANYTHING to do with my happy place
For some reason, I am for a brief moment, a journalists working toward the evening's deadline. I live for moments when I feel complete- as if my life is one hundred percent in order-I am worry free and completely happy-no regrets in sight and high on life.

I stop and think about my life as it is and must smile. The hand of provision is dumping waters of blessing over my small frame, begging for me to remember how much love my Heavenly Father has for me, His own. I remember. Though my world passes by at a pace over which I seem to have no control, and thoughts invade my brain one million at a time, the voice of truth whispers; Its vibrations penetrate the walls of all the world's blabber and blubbler and it pricks my heart. I thank Him for His promise to take my hand, and for His word that the answers will be abundantly clear.