Open.

Such is the invitation of Heaven.

A hand extended, awaiting my touch.

A touch of agreement, embrace, and acceptance.

A touch of least resistance.

The hand moves closer, but respectfully, awaiting my agreement.

It reaches ever so slowly towards above my shoulder.

“Yes.”

It slowly descends.

Another “Yes.”

Before it touches my shoulder, I ease away, ever so slightly.

This is my last impulse…

…to run away…

…to not be found…

…to run away from His touch.

“Yes.”

Somehow, I overcame.

Somehow, I said, “Yes.”

My breath stops.

My life stops.

I’m completely still.

For His hand is now upon me.

“Son”, I hear him say.

I don’t blink.

I don’t breathe.

He waits patiently for me to respond.

I take a long breath.  I exhale.

“Son”, He repeats.

He heard me.

He knows me.

“Son”, He repeats…patiently.

I want His hand off of me,

But I don’t.

I don’t want my Daddy to leave me.

I take another breath.

With every passing moment,

My life becomes more embedded in the touch of His hand.

Home is where His hand is.

I receive His touch.

“Forgive me Father,” I say.

“…for taking so long”.

His hand remains, and draws me in.

“Forgive me for running.”

He says nothing.

I have more to say.

“Forgive me for running away.”

He smiles.  I can’t see it, but I feel it.

His hand begins to apply some pressure, pulling me in towards Him.

I can’t see Him, but I feel Him.

He pulls me in.

I can’t see Him, but I feel His presence.

I’m getting closer.

He draws me into His light.

He draws me into His presence.

With my arms and hands extended in worship,

I receive His love.

I receive His presence.

I receive Him.