How close people could be to us when they had gone as far away as possible, to the edges of the map. How unforgettable.~Paula McLain (From Circling The Sun)

The little boots on the porch took me back--back to southern California when my children were small and we lived on a green rectangle of space nestled on the outskirts of San Diego.

While walking in my neighborhood, I'd spied the boots--could see orange and blue butterflies between the splatters of mud. I stopped and remembered those days on the west coast. My two girls and I would take a blanket to our backyard and spread it with our lunch and a few books to read.  A bougainvillea vine grew against a wall, the purple-pink blooms vivid in the sun. A rabbit hutch sat in the corner with our pet bunny. When I saw those boots, I could still feel my children's closeness, hear their laughter.

It can be the tiniest slivers of memory that bring people near. My husband's robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door, thinking of him bundled in it after a shower, his hair wet, the scent of shampoo still lingering in the air. A book facedown on the chair, the title on the spine reminding me of the beauty of story. Birdsong through the window, a nearness too.

Recently I attended an artist's workshop, the presenter a graphic artist for the Bethel Church ministry in Redding, California. He said he was tasked to develop the art for a conference. As he prayed about what image to design, he kept hearing the phrase, "He is near." With some ambivalence, he moved forward with the idea. Could he actually have a design with a page filled only with three words? In his workshop powerpoint presentation, he showed us the final rendition of the conference program. On one side of the booklet was a gorgeous abstract design, and on the opposite side a white page with nothing other than the words, "He is near." The speaker went on to say that he usually doesn't get feedback about his designs, but one of his colleagues happened to be in charge of directing participants to various meetings during the conference. A woman arrived late, stating she had difficulty getting to the conference and wondered if she should even attend. When the woman was handed the program, she opened it and began to weep. The speaker's colleague said she looked up at him, tears streaming down her face, and said, "This is all I needed to know. That He is near."

God delights in drawing near to us--in a memory, through a book, a soft robe on the back of a door. Birdsong. Speaking to an artist for the one.