Where You are

   I thought You were in a building.  In my mind You only walk through amber colored sunlight that's filtered through stained glass windows.  You smell like long worn suits and Easter corsages. I tried leaving You in that building.  I turned my back on You and walked in to my twenties, not caring that You were waiting for me, always waiting for me.
   You were still waiting when my son came.  You let his tiny hands hold my heart and open my eyes.  You gave me a son so I could understand the Son You sacrificed for me.  You sneak up on me in places I don't think You frequent.  You are in the swirl of cream in my coffee.  You are in a dark high school auditorium.  You pulse in the drum beat and drift over the loud music played on Sunday mornings.  The more I seek You the more You show me Your many unexpected forms. 
     You are in my friends faces.  You are the phone call that gets me through the worst days.  You provide me with a new family in each city You set me in.  You are in the palm of my husband's hand when he holds mine.  You are also in my chaos. You are in my mind when it won't shut down and let me sleep.  You are in the last bit of energy that helps me finish my day.  You are everywhere I am, I am only now beginning to see that.  All the time I thought You were waiting for me to come back to You, You were already with me.   Thank You for letting me be where You are.