his eyes shining with unutterable love

My last entry said something about writing more when things wind down - that was two weeks ago. The things I was talking about in that entry have been replaced by other things, which are winding up, but they aren't wound in the same chaotic, moving around the country kind of way. I'm back in FL. There was a very brief, albeit stressful, period of not knowing where I was going to live, but have since moved into an apartment with a dear friend. It's wonderful; the apartment, living with a dear friend, and the swift provision from the Provider.

I mentioned something a few entries back about feeling God's hand on my shoulder. Well, He has moved it to my back and is shoving me. It's not a bad thing at all, the opposite actually... except that I feel like I can't see ahead of me, so it's as if I'm being shoved down a really dark hallway. There's a spotlight, aimed down, so I can see about three feet of floor ahead, but that's all. It's not that I don't want to move forward, it's just that the hallway is really wide - I can tell because I can feel the air, it's spacious and has current, tiny pieces of debris are illuminated in the spotlight, and I see them, briefly, hoping them to be from wreckage behind me before they are carried away by the soft wind - and I know this hallway splinters into several hallways, and I don't know if I can feel my way through and still choose the right path. And I'm wondering if there is a right path, because I know they all end in the same place, but they diverge, at least momentarily, before running parallel, and I fear the difference could be everything. But contrary to what you might believe, the creaking of the floorboards as my feet move blindly forward is not accompanied by terror, but by awe.


It just occurred to me that something I read two days ago seems to be the perfect ending for this:

"A modern example may be found (if we are not too proud to seek it there) in The Wind in the Willows where Rat and Mole approach Pan on the island.
'Rat,' he found breath to whisper, shaking, 'are you afraid?'
'Afraid?' murmured the Rat, his eyes shining with unutterable love. 'Afraid of Him? O, never, never. And yet--and yet--O mole, I am afraid"

-C.S Lewis, The Problem of Pain