We were Counted among His friends

In my evening meditation I was finally able to discern the basis of grief for me. Painted for you and for me with pictures from the heart.. The missing piece—

Together we climbed the mountain of God. The streams from which we drank were crystal waters and the bread we ate was the bread of angels. We were counted among His friends. We were children bidden to the secret wardrobe having entered through it to another land. And we rejoiced at the treasures we had found. And I am deep in the forest of God now, but I am alone and it is frightening in its solitude. The trees are high and blot out the sun. No clearing to pitch my tent. I feel like Eve in a garden without Adam...who has died,mysteriously. Won't God be with her?  There is no other who can hear her, only the wind which carries her whispers.

I want to speak of God in the language of the wise, of the mature, but there is not ear or eye who understands and has seen the crystal palace across the river, who has touched the glories of  invisible realities, who can say "I know." This is an existential loneliness, a joy which cannot be doubled. What, I pray dear God, do you suggest? 


I must find my way to the Tree of Life. To drink from the mouth of the River again.