His voice...

Far from the cry of the night birds, I lie in my hard bed in my city soaked house. I dream in the night of the freedom of God's country. I long for the place where my heart, soul, and mind can run free.

I work two jobs and attend school full time. My friends hardly see me anymore unless we're at meals together. The only two people who see me with any sort of regularity are my roommate and my friend, David. That's it.

When I started college, I was, in a way, forced into it. So, needless to say, my heart wasn't in it. I wonder sometimes if it ever was at all, even now. I've thought many times of quitting and just finding a full time job until I figure it all out. But, something has always kept me here and kept me going.

On September 18, 2005, I was rebaptized by my pastor, in the witness of my family and friends. Afterward, standing outside to greet people and say goodbye to my family, my father hugged me and told me that he was proud of me. I knew then that there was a purpose for it all. Not just for God, but for my father. I wanted him to be proud of me, if only for a moment or two in time.

Even so, I've stumbled. I entered a bad relationship not long after my baptism, and it did not end well. I thought for the longest time that my life would end. That I would not make it to another sunrise.

Over the summer, I went home to my father's house and began to work. I threw all of me into my job, trying to find a way to keep my mind from going down corridors best left untravelled at the time. My memories would threaten to haunt any down time I had while I had strength. So, I would work myself weary any way that I could, then collapse into exhausted sleep around 2 a.m., only to get up the next day and do it again.

I spoke to two dear and loving friends throughout the summer, Dale and Justin. They kept my spirits up as much as they could, trying to find ways to make me laugh and smile. Sometimes, though, I disdain to admit, they failed. My unrelenting depression was stronger than they were, but not for lack of their trying. '

After one trying night at the store where I work, I came home late, nearly midnight. My father went to bed shortly after I walked in the door, as he had to work the next day as well. Knowing full well that I was on the early shift the next day, I still sat on the couch in the living room, trying not to think, trying not to move. Every part of my body was screaming in pain, from the arches of my feet to the top of my head. Tears threatened to fall with every breath. I leaned my head back against the couch pillow and tried to pray. That's when I heard something.

"Hush, be still. Peace."

Tears fell then as my heart felt suddenly lightened. So many of the worries that were tangled in my mind suddenly unraveled. Troubles melted away. There was a touch of peace in my soul, though I knew that it would not linger. I prayed to God and thanked Him for His Grace and Mercy in my life, and for the way that He reached out when I needed Him most and soothed my aching heart.

The Lord has continued to work in my life since that night, but I have yet to hear His voice so clearly again. I know that He speaks to me everyday, but my mind is so crowded that I can not hear His voice above the din. But, that's okay, because I know that everything will be made clear in His time. I trust in the Lord with all that I am. I know that I'm not the greatest Christian to walk the face of this planet, nor do I strive to be, but I know that God loves me and accepts me... just as I am.