Children of God

Baby maple flowers unfurling

            Mom used to tell this story (which I have elaborated in memory). My sister Katy and I were engaged in a back yard discussion. I was three, Katy was five, and we had stepped away from our half-baked sandbox projects to focus more squarely on deliberations. Katy was trying to explain omnipresence (though I’m sure she didn’t use that word), and I would have none of it. It didn’t make any sense.
            “Yes, God is everywhere,” said Katy.
            “Is he over there?” I asked, pointing across the yard.
            “Yup.”
            “And there, and there, and right here?” I said pointing to the air at the level of my sandy knees. I can hear irritation rising in my voice, the incredulity of a three-year-old skeptic.
            “Yup.”
            Then, says Mom, I swung my foot forcefully into the space in front of me.
            “I just kicked God,” I pronounced.
            Katy didn’t hesitate. “That’s okay,” she said placidly. “He’s used to it.”
            Katy eventually became an interfaith minister. I’ve spent all my years since arguing with God.
 
My 60th year in 60,000 words
Day 259: 172 words, TOTAL = 43,973; 16,027remaining