I will not tell you who you are any more.
You may tell me, and I will believe you.

I will not think I know.
I will not think I’ve been told,
or given a glimpse of the future.

I will expect nothing, carry nothing.
Whatever I receive in my encounter with you,
it will be a surprise,
it will be unanticipated,
it will be sheer gift.

God’s mercies will be new every morning,
and when I meet you,
it will be on fresh ground,
and maybe I will tell you my name,
and maybe you will tell me yours.

This blog was originally posted at LindyThompson.net

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