As real as the smell of coffee in the morning

There are sheep and there are shepherds and being a sheep without a shepherd is one thing, but being a sheep with a shepherd is a horse of an entirely different color.

You might say I’m wearing blinders, that the world has evolved and no one needs anyone except maybe themselves. You might think I’m stuck in the past with my head in the sand or with my nose in an old black book covered in dust on my grandmother’s coffe table.


But I know he’s as real as the smell of coffee in the morning, or the feel of my husband’s hand in mine, or the way fall leaves always change into glorious shades of decay.

I don’t have all the answers. I’m just one little person. Nobody, really. Just a still, small voice in a rushing, noisy world. I can’t dispel all your arguments, I can’t take away all your fear, and I certainly can’t explain away all your pain.

But I can tell you once you’ve met him, you’ll never be the same.

And this might come as a shock (it might even blow your mind), but you don’t have to meet him surrounded by stained glass windows or buried in a dusty book on your grandmother’s coffee table. 

You can meet him in a bar or a boardroom, at a halfway house or a penthouse, in a broken marriage or with the love of your life, with children who bring home detention slips or with children who bring home bumper stickers that tell your friends how well you’ve done. You can meet him when you’re young, you can meet him when you’re old, you can meet him when you’re climbing your way to the top or when you’re clocking too many hours in hospital waiting rooms.


I met him back when I was waiting for my front teeth to grow in, but I haven’t always followed him like a good little sheep should.

He never pushes, he never demands. But whenever I’m ready to look to him, he’s there waiting to give me joy indescribable, peace inexplainable, and rest otherwise unattainable.

He is my shepherd, my savior, my rock. He is my reason, my answer, my hope. He is my definition and my destination.

He is as real as the soul inside me that stopped searching as soon as I met him.

And this little sheep’s gonna follow him all the way home.

4 Replies to “As real as the smell of coffee in the morning”

  1. Well said. And so true. Oh, that at the end of life's journey we could look back and see that we followed His lead each and every day. But even if that hasn't been the case, He still shepherds us into the final pasture. Where the grass is always green and plentiful; the light never dim; and His love overwhelming. Thanks for the reminder.


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