This morning, instead of going online first thing, I went to the Psalms. I was still groggy, still a little unfocused. But this is what happened.
When my six year old daughter padded into our room a few minutes later, my mind wasn’t filled with Facebook images and updates, news and forecasts, things to catch up on, or the opinions and concerns of other people.
The room was quiet, and my head was quiet.
So when I looked up from the printed poetry, I saw her face in all of its subtle, sleepy beauty. I set the book aside and pulled her in next to me and the dozy baby. I didn’t feel interrupted. My connection with God moved naturally into a connection with my daughter. No screen between us, no web obscuring things. The room echoed with sacred words, and I found my own words calmer, and deeper.
God’s presence made me more present.
It’s bedtime right now, and I honestly can’t remember what I read this morning. But I remember my daughter’s face and her Snoopy pyjamas and the clarity between us. The words became flesh, and that was a moment worth dwelling in.