My God comforts me in the morning. He listens to me in the evening and whispers to me during the night. He calms me when I allow it. I ignore him often, but he does not seem to mind. Like an old friend, we pick up where the conversation left off. He normally does most of the listening. Even as he patiently acts the role of the audience, he seems to advise me. I feel a hand resting upon my soul; it grows heavy when I turn the wrong way. A figment of my imagination or a guiding presence, I accept it for what it is. What it might be.
Faith is accepted with your eyes close. I do this now as I step forward and place my trust in his hands.