Still You

There is...
a sense of security when I come to You, Lord.

I know that Presence - that caring, accepting, and peaceful Presence I drenched myself in when I felt alone in the convent. I would look at You, and You would look at me as if I'm the only person in the universe.

You created everything, but You looked at me as if I was much more loved. Much more beautiful.

I came to You in my dirtiest clothes, and you welcomed me.

I did come to You in my I-haven't-taken-a-bath-yet state, and you welcomed me.

I approached You without make-up nor with the hair of my legs shaved, and you welcomed me.

I ran to You in my worst - dry, angry, depressed - and you welcomed me.

I've already stepped out of the nunnery.
And still here You are, alive with that Presence.

Everything has changed. Everyone did.
But You, Lord, have not.

You are still who You are.

And You still love me.

Your Haven

I want to be your haven,

here, in my arms,

in the warmth of my embrace,

where you can rest,

where you can be sure of your safety.

I want to be your haven,

where you can breathe out all your pain,

frustrations and disappointments;

where you gather strength and courage.

I want to be your haven,

where you'll be nourished;

where you'll feel your worth,

see your beauty and goodness

and get to believe in yourself.

I want to be your haven,

even just your haven.

And so everytime you have to leave,

 I will just watch you go,

with a trusting heart,

with complete surrender.

But if ever you find another haven,

yet in the end, still find your way to me,

I promise you

that my doors will be widely open,

and still be your haven.