The other night, I took the dog outside before bed and looked up into the stars. An overwhelming feeling struck me in the chest. I felt the immense power of God, the creator of the universe and I was staring right into His creation. It was all right there. And instead of feeling small and insignificant, I felt a connection to what God created out there and knew that it was in here too. I choked back a sob because I didn’t want my emotions to overtake the moment. I clung to the connection, wrapped my legs around its waist and squeezed my tiny hands around its neck. Don’t drop me, Daddy. But, He put me down gently and once again, I was small and insignificant. I couldn’t for the life of me understand why God would care about us little ones down here when all of creation is so big.
But I know He does. It’s the little things that tell me. Things that you might not connect to God, but I do.
Like when my 4-year-old son told me that he can’t wait to see his cousin walk on water. Apparently, she told him that she can walk on water like Jesus. “She was just joking,” I told him. “No one can walk on water.” My 3-year-old daughter replied, “Yes we can. If you hold your breath and walk on the bottom of the pool, that’s walking on water.” There was something about the creativity and intelligence in her answer that said there’s God to me.
Or the signs I’ve been given. God is all over those signs.
About a year ago, I was driving and my kids were screaming in their car seats. Their wails pierced my eardrums. The space between them and me was so close, it was like they were on top of me. I couldn’t escape or even breathe. I just lost it and all the things I promised I would never tell my kids come out of my mouth…
“Stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about!”
“Why are you crying over something so stupid?”
“If you don’t stop crying I’ll stop this car!”
“Stop crying or I’ll drop you off and you can walk home by yourself!”
I pulled over and they cried harder because they really thought I was going to drop them off. I just wanted to calm down and get my sanity back. I pulled into a parking lot and out of the corner of my eye I saw the name on the building. Casas de los Ninos. It’s a home for abused and neglected children. Just perfect. Unconsciously, I drove my screaming kids to an orphanage. Before I could decide whether to laugh or cry, I got a text with this picture from an unknown number. “God is watching over you. I know because I asked Him to.”
The feeling of being watched was overwhelming and I couldn’t get out of that parking lot fast enough. I drove home knowing that someone was praying for me at that very moment. The kids had even stopped crying.
When I got home, I replied to the text to see who sent it. It turned out to be from a woman I met at the handful of AA meetings I went to my first month of sobriety, nearly 9 months before. Somehow, she still had my number.
I texted her back and thanked her for the message. She replied, “God bless you! Maybe he wanted you to get that message and I was just a vessel.”
Vessels are everywhere when our hearts are open to see them.
Like in peaches. You can’t eat a ripe peach without abandoning your modesty. To do it right, you have to give yourself over to the peach and let its juices engulf you. God is in peaches.
God is in the connections we make each day, the seeming coincidences and gut feelings. I can go a day without consciously acknowledging God and then be whacked in the head by His presence in a peach. And sometimes, I know He’s a She or some spectacular combination of both. Do I sound confused? Maybe I am a little but mostly I’m in awe and I don’t need to know the specifics of how He/She does it all. I’m just grateful to witness it.