For the last few mornings, I’ve been waking up anxious and worried because my writing hasn’t been flowing as usual. I have fretted, been cranky, and sometimes just plain difficult; totally forgetting what it has taken me so many difficult, painful years to understand.

So, as usual, when I finally pull my head out of my you know what I have that golden realization again: Everything, including me, is exactly the way it’s supposed to be every moment of every day: if it could be different, if it could be any other way it would be. My life is actually the amazing life of God; His gift to me that He has raised me up in to eternally experience his divine love and truth.

I must remember that I didn’t come here to write and sing. I write and sing because I’m here. Thank you, father, for Your life and using me for an instrument through which You express. Praise be to You Father.