There is comfort in consistency, in the knowledge that certain things happen always in the same way. Even things that are consistently difficult, I find, are comforting in their own fashion. There is comfort to be gained from the simple act of kneeling and waiting for Him, comfort to be found in the silence that has become so normal.
I am not attracted by change, or novelty. In consistency I find peace, and by peace I am comforted. Sometimes He comes to me, when I go in search of comfort. Sometimes He wraps His presence around me and anchors me with Him. More often, though, He fills the silence into which I sink, and there is great comfort in that.
His disconcerting wildness, His raw and primal Presence – these things, too, are comforting. They whisper to me stories of the life I am writing with Him, bring up memories I thought lost, and remind me how I came to be where I am. There is comfort in knowing your own story.