Words of a song from my youth take shape in my mind, and I sing them to the trees.

More of You. More of You. I’ve had all, but what I need is more of You.
Of things I’ve had my fill, and yet I hunger still.
Empty and bare, Lord hear my prayer for more of You.

On retreat at a cabin in the woods, what better place to be? I look out to the treetops. The quiet is a balm. I fill up on nature’s nectar.

The early morning is my favored hour on the deck, before the heat of the day, sunlight filtering through leaves, birds serenading, gentle rain dripping to the forest floor.

When Maisie and I walk, she is in olfactory heaven. I wonder at her inquisitiveness, ears alert and nose to the ground. What scent causes her pause, creating a craving to investigate? What sound catches her attention enough to stop, stand still, and wait for more?

I too feel the yearning to pause in wonder while seeking and searching for truth. What lies ahead as one decade of my life ends and another begins? How shall I be alert to what lies ahead? How can I give heed to what my senses and my spirit are trying to tell me?

At this age I have more questions than answers.

Reading Jean Fleming’s Pursue the Intentional Life, I make notes in my journal.

• I will not live wisely unless I am thoughtful, examining this one wonderful life, my motives, behavior and habits.
• Preparing for tomorrow is different than worrying about tomorrow.
• I can’t face old age when I’m old. I have to do that when I’m young. (I hope it isn’t too late.)

Life is a remarkable adventure, with twists and turns, wonder and mystery. The trail is winding and uphill, heavy with the weight of the unimaginable yet to be discovered.

The journey is dangerous and wild. Sometimes I’ve stumbled and face planted. Hopefully, I learned from my errors, picked up and gone forward. Around the bend is magnificence, and I don’t want to miss it.

When the road is uncertain and frightening, I will not walk alone, though the valleys are deep and the mountains high. My Shepherd leads. He started the quest and invited me to follow. He is my protection and prepares a table for me. He bids me rest and takes my hand when it’s time to press on.

The closer I get to home, the more I know what I really need, what I want most. It isn’t the stuff I’ve spent a lifetime accumulating. Not houses or land, bank accounts or possessions.

It’s Jesus. He is what my heart craves. He is what I need.

Sunday grace.