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Measuring God’s presence

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Yesterday I passed a cemetery, which my toddler calls a park, and noticed a woman standing at the foot of a grave. Red flower topped the stone. With her hands folded in front, she stood half turned as if wanting to leave yet a longing made her unable. Later I pondered the nature of God’s presence as I thought of the woman all alone in front of her buried loved one. Not seeing God there too, I wonder if God needs a body, becoming evident in the encounter with another. Or maybe God is invisible everywhere, refusing to be confined to a single entity.

Today, I will meet some folks I’ve managed to put off meeting for years. They have the same condition as my 3-year-old that has left him with some disfigurement from a tumor and bone deformities. Fear has kept me from meeting up with others with the same condition, thinking it would be one more nail in the coffin confirming my son’s diagnosis. So I’ve walked a solitary road managing my son’s medical battles.

How to measure the immeasurable: God as sheer presence with the woman, with the dead, with the incurable, with me.

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