I’d walked my way through a field waist-high full of daisies, who stood tall and busy whispering in that slight summer breeze.

He’d loved me, and he’d loved me not, and they breathed in deep and let it out over, and over again. He loved me, and he loved me not, and perhaps he loves me once again. And like a world full of people, they all whispered it as they watched every move I would make. They loved me, and they would love me not.

I dropped my hands to either side and ruffled their feathering petals while I kept my eyes on that Son set on my heart for His Glories. Because at some point it must stop being about them, and must be all about Him.

So when I’d come to the edge of the field gated with old wooden slabs, and peered over the edge of this garden towards that desert on the opposite side, I just knew I had to go. Cracked, dry, and silent, something with beauty far beyond comparison stood humble and strong just for me. Nearly out of breath I climbed up and out of that field of ever-changing daisies and jumped both feet into sand.

And there is nothing more terrifying than leaving those comfortable places for nothing of familiarity or distinct pleasure. But it is the heart of the faithful and the mind of the wise to leave the words of this world behind.

There, in the desert I stood barefoot and bare heart while the beauty of this single flower took hold of my heart.

Therefore I am now going to allure her;

I will lead her into the wilderness

and speak tenderly to her.

There I will give her back her vineyards,

and will make the Valley of Achor a door of hope.

There she will respond as in the days of her youth,

as in the day she came up out of Egypt. Hosea 2.14-15