It astounds me that the Painter of the skies
would bend to sing over me
with joy.
That He would delight in me with rejoicing
quiet me with His love.
I hear the refrain
like a lullaby stills the infant
words of peace
reassurance that I am
seen, known,
enough.
That I am always held
in the crook of His arm
even through my disquiet
and wrestling.
Always a song of grace
though I am
undeserving, and often
unhearing.
His song does not depend on
my listening.
It continues, calling me back
to faith, to trust,
to lean into His arms
and rest
in His faithfulness.
