A Picture

I see her in my mind's eye.

She is lying prostrate on the ground, wishing that the fingers of her soul could feel the printed words that her fingertips are caressing.

Longing for the touch on her heart, just as she is touching the words that He wrote to her.

And yet, even more than needing to grasp onto the promises He made, she is crawling over the book...

Straight to the Source.

Grasping His feet... the feet that have scars that He took... for her.

And she feels a hand on her back, moving under her shoulder, and drawing her up from the ground.

She is now kneeling, tears streaming.

His hands, now under her arms, bringing her to her feet.

And then, a strong hand, under her chin, gently tilting it back until she is staring... staring into the eyes of Love itself.

What she had clung to as earthly love, dissipates in comparison to this... ultimate love... genuine love.

Riveted, she cannot turn away.

And knowing her every longing, He draws her into His embrace.

Her head on His chest.

And she finds what she's been longing for.

She is... at rest.