I'm a writer; I tell stories.~Claire Messud (From This Strange Eventful History)

A few days ago I received an email from a reader. She said she had finished one of my books and "loved" it. She told me that each evening after dinner, she read the book aloud to her cat, Sonny. She wrote that the book brought her comfort. She said she felt like someone understood her and she felt less lonely. Perhaps her words brought me as much comfort. I guess this is what every writer hopes for, prays for--that someone would feel comforted, less lonely, because of their words. And then the cat. Dear Sonny. A listener.

We all need comfort.

It has stopped raining. Tropical Storm Debby has dumped buckets of rain over Charleston for days. So many closed roads, flooded streets, downed trees. Tornadoes. Mercifully, I experienced no damage or flooding. Now, the sun has appeared and the pewter-colored skies have vanished. Now I see pure white clouds against a backdrop of deep blue. There is relief, a burden lifted. I'm listening to Pandora and my "scentiment" diffuser is misting a lovely fragrance as I type. I brewed a cup of "buttery caramel" coffee to celebrate the end of this storm. Small comforts.

I finished reading Exodus today. The last verse reads: So the cloud of the LORD was over the tabernacle by day, and fire was in the cloud by night, in the sight of all the house of Israel during all their travels. 40:38 (NIV)

May you be comforted by the presence of Jesus in every crevice and constellation of your lives. On every road you travel. And many, many thanks for reading my stories.