And I’m already dressed.
Wandering the hills in white,
As if anyone invited me.
I’ve tried retracing my steps.
Looking for footprints in dry grass.
But truthfully?
I wasn’t lost by accident.
I left early.
I needed to know if anyone would come looking.
They say the Shepherd leaves the ninety-nine.
But what if He’s late?
What if He’s still waiting for me to ask for help?
Maybe I’m not just the lost lamb.
Maybe I’m the stubborn one.
The one who said,
“I can handle it.”
The one who smiled through the storm
Because asking felt like weakness.
But today?
June 21st.
I whisper it for real:
“Help.”
Not because I’m hopeless.
But because I’m ready.
Ready for the arms that carry.
For the kind of rescue that doesn’t shame you for the detour.
For the voice that says,
“You’re not late.
You’re right on time.
We were just setting the table.”
And maybe Lana’s right,
Maybe the party is in December.
But the invitation was sent in June.
So arriving to the party 6 months early?
June 21st?
Because the first to arrive
Aren’t the ones with perfect timing.
They’re the ones with faith.
Faith that even if the room is empty today,
It won’t be forever.
Faith that showing up when no one else does
Isn’t foolish.
And to the ones brave enough
To say they’re lost
AND still believe
Help IS on the way.
Without a parachute,
With admiration,
Prepare for Impact.
-D