alongside of me

God knows I need time. He patiently waits with me - not across the heavens or even across the table. He stands, sits, and lays beside me; silently. He knows he needn't convince me of this because his presence is enough. His presence is enough because I am enough; he made me so. We don't talk because right now that is not what we need to get close. We both know it will not last forever. He better than I, and that is why he waits with me. Not to prove anything; rather, for understanding to process. It is well. I make mistakes in the meantime - I am a child testing my limits with the ONE who loves me without question. He is, indeed, my one. He is the gardener, the weeding is his. People often misunderstand the silence I'm holding with God. A trusted guide tells me the silence is prayer; a form I'd not previously experienced or expected. A form I'm not entirely comfortable with, yet not quite uncomfortable. Every deepened relationship allows for the silences, the times when self-reflection supersedes. He supports me through this, he smiles on me, laughs when I laugh - he laughs when I cry sometimes. He knows what I need and is allowing me the time to feel. And he graciously allows me to feel this pain, this fear, this process of healing. He knows that time alone feels like the (forced) isolation to which I've grown accustomed, easing me through those times, whether that means leading others to me, me to others, actions, activity, what may look like "more" to those who don't understand.