By: Rev. Dr. Mary Lautzenhiser Bellon
So often we search for God without looking;
we stumble on little sayings, we keep talking
as though in the middle of a particularly long sentence
God will appear, will show up.
But I have found that it is when we show up
that God appears, and when we are present to each other
the breath of the Holy Spirit rises and falls between us,
and maybe you or I said a thing or maybe we didn’t.
Just yesterday we were walking and I saw how the leaves were beginning to turn
and I remembered we had walked here before, and before that,
and I remembered the déjà vu of the light moving between the burnt leaves,
the cool wind and the way a season is familiar: like when God appears
when we are out walking, and we are saying things that count for nothing.
Except we feel what cannot be seen: that which is beyond and behind us.
So often we search for God without looking
but I have found that when I open my hand, a prayer naturally falls from my fingers
sometimes into your hands, sometimes onto the floor of the timber
buried beneath the leaves, where the moles are poking up their noses and blind faces.
I am aware of those prayers under my feet now, the ones of years past and of today.
I am aware of the ones held in our hands that we lift and release.