When I was a young woman, I felt God’s presence in the mountains where I lived and when I was in nature.

I especially felt it at my childhood home on the Atlantic Ocean. My favorite spot was a small clearing in the woods behind our house.

I haven’t been to the clearing in almost two decades, but in my memory, it is wild, often serene, all moss-covered rock and light glistening through the trees overhead.

The ground and the big sky, surrounding me with the image of what I thought were God’s hands. I felt like this is where I belonged. Like Anne of Green Gables said in my favorite childhood book, “I’d look up into the sky—up—up—up . . . and then I’d just feel a prayer.” My soul was home. But as it is in life, I grew and changed, my parents and I moved, and I dreamed bigger. I eventually forgot the clearing, the filtered light, and what it felt like to be there.

Now I close my eyes when my thoughts of daily life seem unbearable and I know Yeshua is there, in the big sky but mostly He’s with me in my Spirit always.

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