They tell me I must roam far. They tell me I will never find what I seek, if I wait for it. They tell me I must wander . . . that the world is big and free, merely waiting for me to explore it. They tell me I’m a fool to stay. They tell me I’ll grow old before my heart is satisfied. They tell me I’m a dreamer, if I think that God will send him to my doorstep . . .
They tell me I’ll never find love.
But they don’t understand. I’m not looking. I’m not finding. I’m not seeking.
I’m merely trusting . . . trusting in a God that is big enough to do exceeding abundantly above all that I could ever ask or think. A God that is big enough to move a certain man from one side of the world, to my side of the world, if so be that we are meant for love. It matters not how far away he is, or what he’s doing, or what he must go through to get to me. If faith can move mountains, could it not, more easily, move a man?
So when they tell me I must leave the quiet, remote life that I love . . . when they tell me I must seek to find . . . when they tell me I’ve no hope at all if I stay . . .
I shall merely clasp my throbbing heart and smile. For they tell me I’ll never find love. That may, indeed, be true.
Inevitably, love will find me.