It was a beautiful Saturday morning. Before the world had fully woken, I was already with Him — and He took me somewhere I had almost forgotten.

He took me to my happy place.

In the vision, I stood at the edge of a wood. Trees arched overhead, casting shade over a spring that ran through the middle of the clearing — a shining, flowing spring. I had known this place as a child. I used to come here in my heart. And only now did I understand what it always was: the living water. The wood, the shade. He had always been there.

No Barriers

What He wanted to show me wasn’t just the place — it was who I used to be when I came to it. As a child, I spoke to Him like a friend. Low voice. Warmth. No distance between us. No performance. Just closeness.

There were no barriers then.

That is how He wants my prayers to be from now on. Talking about everything. Without barriers.

Something in me recognised this instantly. Not as a new instruction, but as a remembering. I had been speaking to Him with a kind of formality I had built up quietly over the years — and He was gently setting it down.

The Morning I Desired

He showed me a life I had been longing for without fully naming it. Waking just before dawn. Rising while it is still dark, still quiet. Walking out to worship — loudly, freely — as the sun climbs behind the temple. Just me, and the darkness, and the light breaking through. Then returning inside, pouring coffee, and sitting with His words as the morning fills the room.

It was simple. It was whole. It was mine.

A Dance I Could Not Join

In the vision, I sat beneath a tree. Around me — around me — were Christ, the Holy Spirit, dancing. Light and movement and joy that was almost more than I could hold.

They invited me to dance with them.

But I could not move. I was so overcome watching them that all I could do was sit and look. Every piece of me was absorbed in the sight. There was no lack in this — only fullness. Pure love stilled me. And I think He understood.

On my left, in the background: the temple.

The Strength of What Lies Beyond

Then the vision shifted. I saw Christ walking with the cross.

And I understood something that perhaps I had read but never quite felt: He could carry it because He already knew what was beyond it. He saw the resurrection. He knew what the cross would bring — His beloved ones, drawn close to Abba. The suffering was not the end of the story, and He knew that. That knowing was His strength.

Look beyond. He knew the resurrection. He knew. And that is what gave Him the strength to walk.

This is now my shed — my shelter, my source of strength. The time between today and the day it all unfolds: I will walk it. I will carry my own cross. Not because I am unafraid, but because I, too, can look beyond.

Just be with me.
Never leave me.

I love You.