"Papa, where are you?" cries the little girl, lost in an office building black-out. "Here I am, sweetie, it's ok," comes the response, accompanied by a large, warm hand placed atop her head. Where exactly is "here"? Still unknown, but now unnecessary.
There have been times where I have felt lost. Wondered where I was. What I was to do. How I was to be. "Where, LORD? Where? Where do you want me? Where are you sending me? Where is the pathway You are asking me down? I cannot see it - I know it not."
"Here," He says, sending His voice.
"Here," He says, comforting with His hand.
"Here," He says, standing by me.
Rarely does "here" tell me where I am. Rather, it tells me Who knows.