I thanked God for choosing to dwell in me.

Tonight I was at home in my narrow bed. Once again I thanked God, not for the warmth of this bed or for the pea soup, but that it pleased Him to dwell in me. (…) However, I hope that when I no longer have this daily bread, I will still give thanks for something else. For what God is in me. And that has nothing to do with a full or empty stomach. Or at least I think so now, next to the heated stove and after a hearty breakfast.

(Etty Hillesum /1914–1943/, diary entry, January 23, 1942)