A prayer in the dark of winter

Sometimes all I can determine about God is that she exists, and nothing else. But even so, that can be enough.

In my darkest hour, I cried out to God. I told her that I couldn't stomach the idea of experiencing her love or presence as embodied by other people. I told her that I needed nothing less than direct intervention, direct contact with God. If another person were to come along and embody God's love and presence, that would not be enough. I needed God directly. When I called out for God to speak to me now, immediately, or else I would simply go limp until I died...my tears ended, my mind cleared, and this thought suddenly occurred to me:

Be with me.

Be with me.

Be with me.

Be, as I am.

Join me in be-ing.

Be with me.

Sit beside me. Look out upon this valley. It is green and verdant. Life is breathed into it, I am breathed into it. I am here. I am in this valley. I am in life. I am life. Sit with me. Be with me.

And I replied:

I am with you.

I am with you.

I am with you.

I am as you are.

I am alongside you.

I have my being in you.

I have my being with you.

We parallel one another; you are, and I am. We exist together.

I delight in this valley. In my present darkness, the trees are bare and the days are dark and cold. But I know the bursting forth of life is not far away. Only another month, and the trees with bloom, the valley will turn from grey to green, and you will be there. I will sit in that valley, and I will be alongside you, as you are.

In the painful days when all I know is that you exist, I quiet myself and simply let myself be, as you yourself are.

I will struggle with the question of whether or not there are any tangible signs that you love me another day.

For now, it is enough to know that you are, and that I am, and that we are together in the valley that you made.

Amen.