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I’ve done it enough times that she is curious.

She sips her milk and clutches slippery banana for breakfast and looks at me with big eyes wondering about that Book lying open in front of me. She wants whatever it is I have as a general rule, but this Book has no pictures. No colors to speak of. No shapes or pop-outs. Nonetheless, she’s been watching and pondering and thinking all along, and today she verbalized her desire:

“Bi! Bi!” (translate: Bible)

Pat. Pat. Tiny hands pounding the table for emphasis. The decision has been made. She has pondered long enough and she wants to pull a little closer. I wipe off the banana-y hands best I can and pull her close on my lap.

“This is the Bible,” I tell her.

I open to John 6.

“I am the Bread of Life,” I read aloud. She sits still, reverently waiting for what that means or what it is going to do. Then she pats. More. She wants to hear more.

I read a couple more lines, and then tell her just a bit about it, and close it before the squirms and wiggles come out in full force. She seems satisfied, and crawls away.

I feel stuck to my chair.

“I am the Bread of Life.”

I thought I was simplifying everything for her, but now I’m not so sure. I feel like the one in need of the simple truth all over again.

These last several days have been days full of His voice. The words have come precisely in the right time and way, and I have eaten a steady diet of them. It’s when I’m weak that I need the Living Bread more than at any other time. I feel like I’m the one tugging on His pant leg, saying, “Bi! Bi!”

Tell me more.

And He responds, “I’ll do more than that. I’ll show you. I’ll show you pictures of grace and love and power that you have never seen. I’ll show you my glory in shimmering full-spectrum color. I will show you the shape of your place in My heart. I will make My Words pop out to you like nothing you have ever seen. I am your life. I am your nourishment. I am your bread. You are made body, soul, and spirit, and I know you. I knit you together in your mother’s womb. I know the bread you need. I know the nourishment you need. I know the strength you need. I am Nourishment Perfected.”

Prayers are being answered.

Breakthroughs are happening.

The Living Water, The Bread of Life, His voice, this Spoken Beauty, is serving up the most stunning, nourishing feast.

A feast right in the very midst of these careening days is like my very own eye of the storm.

Am I surprised by it? That He cares. So. Much.

Is it so hard to comprehend? That sometimes He takes care to serve up one spoonful of His feast just as lavishly as a heaping platter full. Because He knows just what we need. And when. And how much.

I am in awe at how He takes us, wind-blown, rain-blown, right out of our storms, and leads us to the table, saying all the way,

“How beautifully you are perfected in My love, child! How appropriate that you should sit at My table! How wonderful that you are here! I am delighted to share this feast with you.”

I tell Him that the feast takes my breath away. He is so pleased.

I see my name at my place. Except…

It’s not written on place cards, but it’s written on His hands.

“See?”

He leans in close.

“You belong here.”

Song of Solomon 2:4
John 6:48
Isaiah 49:16

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