This morning, waking up in the comfort of my parents' home, I wondered why I haven't felt like God is speaking to me directly during this time of vacation, other than daily reminders to put my hope in Him alone, and to enjoy life each day. Have I not given him time? Has he been desperately trying to communicate to me but I am lost in the pages of some other author's book? Or driving between cities? Or sleeping? Or watching birds squabble over seed? Or staring at the wind in the leaves?

Probably not. He usually speaks to me when he wants to, asleep or awake, driving or reading or watching the world. And maybe he is speaking to me, about rest and enjoyment and freedom in love... and other things I haven't even realized yet.