I am overtaken.
I stop surrendered in mid-stride.
I turn around slowly to confront my conqueror.
I find only the sun as it ascends over the treetops, or a tiny flower posing near my feet, or my niece smiling up at me, or the twinkling of the first star, or the tune of my sister´s whistle, or the wind touching my brow, or the echo of a Psalm written centuries ago.
It is then I remember that the truest Love is the quietest kind that does not demand attention or require noisy evidences. It is, in fact, easily passed by…often ignored and misunderstood.
It surrounds us. Yet we walk on without a nod towards the invisible.
For some reason (pure grace most likely), I am occasionally awoken by a subtle tap on my heart. The Love of my God steals over me; I cannot resist it. I fall captive to His quiet Love.