"The white noise of humming traffic; a wood saw in the neighbor's garage; birds chirping softly; a buzzing bee; rustling of the bushes; crunching of leaves by a hidden little critter; the scratching noise of my jacket against the paper as pen glides across page; the creaking of the porch swing rocking back and forth...
It is here that He finds me today. 'Find' is perhaps the wrong word. I will just be honest. He has known where I have been every moment of the day. But it is here where I have paused to listen to the voice that is always speaking softly, tenderly to me. What does He say, you ask?
It is our quiet place. It is, therefore, our secret. "
