meeting at our table

Jan 9/12 journal entry...

   It's still me Abba, Jesus.  I just felt I needed a new page for some reason. I wanted to come again purposefully to You... we all sit down at the table and it is tonight a small enough table that we each sit on a side and yet if we were to lean on the table in conversation our fingers would easily touch. The room is dark except for the warm light that spills over the thick wooden table worn with deep marks and stains of a lifetime of use. It has the comfort of a kitchen here but I know instead it is our place of meeting... shelves of books line the walls floor to ceiling. This is a intimate feeling place... one of deep importance and 'specialness'. Curious though, it has almost a reverential air of Your Holiness yet not that halts conversation and heart sharing instead it has the opposite effect... I feel so wanted here, invited... important to You.

   I lean forward as I begin.
I want what You offered. I glance over at my Jesus and I see Him put an elbow on the table and put his face in His hand as He is drawn into my conversation. I cannot help but reach over in ridiculous giddy love and touch His arm. A smile breaks on Abba's face... one of deep satisfaction and joy. Good. 
I am trying to wake up and be with You more.  I enjoyed trying new questions today. One thought kinda stays with me when I was running.  At one point my legs felt very able to do their job but my lungs were telling me something quite the opposite. And I thought of us... that in learning something new perhaps the mechanics of trying, start to exist before the real connection, which makes it something done in freedom and with all that I am... complete faith, complete trust. I thought perhaps I had it backwards but maybe not eh?
Maybe not at all. 
So I need to keep on practicing.
Yes. 
Okay. I am now the one to put both elbows on the table and put my face in my hands. I may be sitting still but inside I am not lol. I look into Your faces and wait. Jesus moves His hand towards me silently asking to hold one of mine... I offer it quickly. No word is spoken but He just ever so gently rubs my hand as He holds it.
You are right to listen. Perhaps that should be your nickname this year... Our Listener. My smile beams out as I ponder this. You push a stack of papers across the table towards me. There is much to know. That need to written down and read... seen and heard. Suddenly there is a pen in my hand and my breath catches in awe and delight. I move the stack in front of me and place the pen atop it. Keep coming here and meeting with us as we teach you to hear and listen. 
I almost erased that first part of 'coming here' because I figured it was limiting what You would do but instead it is You meeting something in me... to learn to step out in the unknown from somewhere very comfortable or maybe better put, a place to keep coming back to to keep me going back out? That reminds me of someone... Jesus. A soft chuckle shakes You as You once again pick up my hand. Hmmm that feels so nice.