I slept through most of my pastor’s sermon this morning.

In my truck.

In the parking lot of my church (while the livestream played on my phone).

But I met with Jesus.

Before the 8:30 service, a little girl at my church without words asked me to carry her from her momma’s minivan into the building. She wrapped her arms around my neck and dropped her head into the crook under my beard. It was the moment I most felt Jesus this morning, and tears are blurring my eyes as I try to type now. She said no words—just held onto me.

That’s what prayer has felt like for me lately—few words in either direction, just a sense that I’m held or at least known.

As I set her on her little feet, I whispered into her ear,“I love you!” She answered with a short squeeze. I didn’t need a verbal reply, as it felt like the moments on hiking trails or next to creeks or under a wide sky of stars, when I didn’t need ears to hear, “I love you more!”

—-PS: The cover photo for this post is of my daughter’s first LEGO set. We built it together last Friday.