God has silver hair.


God has dancing blue eyes,

speaks with the slightest southern accent

that transforms the 'a' in 'amen'

to a sound so soft it falls like a snowflake

upon Michigan-tuned ears.


God loves the energy of a tornado,

but would keep you perfectly safe from harm

should one stroll down your street.

When you wanted to take pictures,

you'd be warned about the last lady who did--

and lost a set of teeth.


God knows what it’s like to have a hole

in the shoes you’ve worn for miles,

but is warm enough to keep the cold out for you.


God is a good listener.

So good, He hears feelings

when you can’t find the words to say

the rainbow conglomeration of things you’ve felt

since you woke up this morning… or in the past fifteen minutes.


God keeps a good supply of cookies and apple cider.

He always has time to sit with you,

listen to you, make you feel like you are the only person…

Even when you know there are six billion others, too.


God is distant.

I was sure of it when I prayed last Sunday,

asking where He was, why He could not hold me,

why He could not just be there as a Person.


Then, Terry told the world a secret.

“Christ has no body but yours,

No hands, no feet on earth but yours.”

He is in everyone.


I love listening to God’s soft southern accent.

When God is holding me, I feel so safe and so loved

that I could just fall asleep there, all wrapped up.

I feel His love with the little things like grasshopper cookies,

cranberry juice, and café  breakfast dates.


God is a challenge.

He has been given to me through amazing people.

In turn, He tasks me,

with the most delicate and immense service:

to be the hands and feet of Christ.



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