We were walking up the aged, mossy village stairs on an achingly bright Sunday morning. My son's little hand in mine, I let it become a moment to probe his heart. "How do you pray?" I asked. He lifted two strong fingers and replied, "I say my 'Bless us O Lord' before food, and my bed prayers." "How come you can talk to God?" I asked, to see what might come next. He answered, "Because He is in my heart." I wanted to know more. "How do you know God is in your heart?" He replied, "Because he bangs from inside, so it goes thump, thump, thump." I lit up, "So you know He is in your heart because you can feel Him??" Peter's voice got excited, "Yeah, He does it all the time! Thump, thump, thump. And . . . and . . . you know, you can put your head like this and hear Him in another person's heart too!!"
Oh, Lord, why is it so hard to convince me that You are so close? Not only is your creative Spirit of Life beating a pulsing lifeblood through my veins, but your Sacred Innocence is all around. Your Goodness and Mercy are there in my son's hand on a sunny morning on a sacred mountain in Lebanon. Have mercy on me, a poor sinner who forgets, whose eyes are dim and ears deaf to the evidence that normal life provides.