A Joy that Cannot be Contained

Yesterday before the service began, those of us in the pews watched as a little girl, probably no older than four years old, wandered away from her mother and began exploring the church.

Her eyes were wide.

Her mouth open.

She looked all around her and I couldn’t help but narrate in my head everything she saw.

Yes, there’s the altar rail.

And this is the pew.

And that smell is old wood varnish.

And these are candles individually lit.

And here is the sun, pouring through an upper window.

And yes, here we all are, sitting here with you, smiling and laughing at your joy.

Because, sweet child, that look on your face—I know it well.

It’s the moment when you first realize that you are hungry for something, for the mystery, for the ethereal, for the unexplainable, for whatever or whoever it is that is resting just beyond the veil. 

It’s the first time you know that there is something out there, something huge and magnificent and frightening and joyful and beautiful, something that is in (like the movie title) all things everywhere all at once. 

Keep exploring child of God.

Never stop searching.

Never stop running toward the Love that watches over us.

Never stop believing.

Never lose that joy.