As a kid, did anyone else feel safer by simply hiding under the covers when there were scary sounds at night?  Does anyone else feel safe, at peace, when the sky is covered with clouds, too exposed and vulnerable when there’s not a cloud in the sky?  That’s how I often felt and feel.  Maybe the reason is because we were made to dwell in the shelter of God’s wings.  This poem deals with the idea of shelter:


Warm.  Soft.

Familiar pressure.

Blanket over my head.


Guarding against darkness around my bed.

Safe in a cocoon of quilts.


Cool.  Grey.

Calming presence.

Clouds above my head.


Blocking infinite questions of the universe

My mind can’t hold with sanity.


White.  Light.

Warm compression.

Father’s wings around my head.


Sheltering from every storm.

I was made for Your arms.

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