You will find Me.
You will look for Me in still days, in howling winds, in pouring rain and thundering storms. You will look for Me in smiles, in tears, in screaming anger and shuddering fear. You will look for Me under the shelter of the oak tree, in the heights of the pine, in the branches of the sycamore and the trunk of the birch. You will look for Me in the shriek of a raven, in the song of a nightingale, in the inescapable calls of pigeons.
You will look for Me wherever you go, wherever you find yourself you will search. But, my dearest, you will not see Me until you learn to let Me guide your eyes. I long for you to see Me, darling, I long for the moment of our eyes meeting. But you must let Me give it to you.
I will show you My face in fallen leaves, My voice in the whistling wind. I will show you how to know Me and then you will know that I can be anywhere. I will open your eyes, dear one, and then you will find Me.
And then you will find Me.