And with Him I do not fall.
He tells me I am His delight, and He shakes off cobwebs from the past, showing me where He was, even when I didn’t know it. He grabs my hand and shows me what I love, what brings me joy — reminding me what brings me delight, what brings me life — movement and stillness, rushing water and quiet breezes, loving with a heart of surrender, forgetting myself and knowing only Him. He reaches in to the aches of yesterday and redeems today. There is beauty in each corner of pain, each moment of sadness. He has never left, leaning in, weeping, too.
To know delight, one must know sorrow, too.
To believe I am His delight stirs me to want to tell you, too, to be a voice of hope and faith, to want to pray that His adoration of you — you — is more than you can even imagination and dream. His delight in you is light in moments of doubt, stirring love toward hope, bringing joy from darkness, life into death.
You, my sweet sister, are His delight.
I pray you have a beautiful, weekend, girls, soaking up His love and believing — just a little, even — how much the Father delights in you.