Practicing the Presence of God

I kneel beside my grandson as he stands mesmerized at the window in the early morning light. I have my arm around him as we watch snowflakes gently fall. Branches are bowed heavy. Sunshine glistens on the garden's white blanket and we see jewels sparkling here and there. We are peeking into winter's treasure chest - its lid opened wide outside our window. There is no sound except our voices.

Where's God? asks Xander.

God is in the trees. I say. God is in the stillness. God is in the snow. God is in the air. God is in the sunshine.

But where is God? he puzzles.

Well God is invisible, remember?

My grandson is still. He thinks. He watches snow fall. And then he turns to me and asks,

God is in the house?

I laugh as I scoop him into my arms and affirm, Yes, God is in the house. And God is in your heart too.

And the words of Jesus and Henri Nouwen and Sue Monk Kidd echo in my mind as they share the mystery and wonder we find when practicing the presence of God.

And I think about an autumn day when I raked leaves and my neighbor came to talk. And how the only thing I could think about as I leaned on my rake was that God was in my neighbor, and God was in the leaves, and God was in our conversation, and in our worries, and in our smiles, and in our time.

And I want every day to be like this snowy day. Or the day when I raked leaves in the autumn.


How do we cultivate practicing the presence of God with our children?