You are in this story, and it is a story that you’re comfortable in.

And then, a new presence interrupts your life and interrupts the little story you were telling.

At first, it’s all potential. Every exchange is supercharged with excitement and wonder.

Your mind races, your heart thumps with desire, and you cling to every smile, every look, and every word.

There is a goodness to this interrupting presence, and you begin to hope it will endure.

At the same time, you’re shackled with pessimism and fatalism; the electricity dwindles, and your mind hesitates—this is going to end.

This is going to end.

This is too good to be true.

This isn’t going anywhere.

This is going to end.

Walls are raised. Defensive maneuvers are engaged.

Yet beneath your layers of resistance, you hope ever so softly.

To your surprise, to your dismay, to your dismay—Yahweh remains.

Yahweh remains, and your excuses begin to dry up. You dare believe that this divine presence is faithful and true and permanent.

And so you’re afraid and uncertain and you feel like Yahweh deserves more than your fickle heart can offer because who are you that Yahweh should be mindful and attentive of you?

And you fear hurt

but you know

that when Yahweh embraces you

—your head on the bosom of Divinity—

there is peace with the new story.

It’s not your—singular—story anymore.

It’s your—plural—story anymore.