Most Holy One,
You are always inviting
Like the creaking wooden swing on my grandmother’s screened porch
always moving in space.
Filling my imagination with boxes of old books and magazines written before I was born.
Satisfying my longing for quiet, silence, solitude.
Beckoning me to become a maker of words
and a lover of You.
May I never forget the movement of that swing, rocking like a cradle.
May I always remember to listen for Your invitation.
May I be brave and trusting enough to answer the Yes that leaps into Your arms.