In times of peace I drift away from You.  Like float­ing on a quiet river in cool temps, I effort­lessly slide away.  Nap­ping, I wake to find I’m removed; You, dis­tant.  Peace­ful waters hide dan­gers worth remem­ber­ing. There is where I long to be—in the shadow of the Almighty, no mat­ter how delight­ful the nap.  Surely by now our rela­tion­ship is deep enough that storms are not nec­es­sary.  The trip back to inti­macy feels like a neck-high trudge upstream.  I reach for You, strain­ing against the cur­rent.  Like Angelo’s fresco, arms out­stretched but not touch­ing.  Stuck in space.  How did I wind up here?  How do I avoid a sim­i­lar trip?

Yes, I’m grate­ful for the calm and quiet but not at the expense of inti­macy.  Ah!  Could that be my help, tucked into the shad­ows of my thoughts?  When the lazy river wants to draw me down­stream, may sweet, deep grat­i­tude bridge the dis­tance before it even appears.

As you there­fore have received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in Him,
hav­ing been firmly rooted and now being built up in Him and estab­lished in your faith,
just as you were instructed, and over­flow­ing with grat­i­tude.
Colos­sians 2:6–7