“Our play is not something separate from our spirituality; it is itself a sign of the presence of God in the world.”
― Ken Shigematsu

Dear God,

You are so incognito as to be an eternal mystery. None of us gets the joke, although we sense it at times. For me, you are the carrot on the end of the stick I am chasing. For you, I am your container. One among billions. Kudos to your wardrobe director. And yet, I am wearing a fuzzy old robe with a leopard collar. I think you could do better.

I have managed to keep this robe out of the eyes of the general public, which happen to be you. If you are laughing at me, you manage to misdirect my attention while you do so. I might hear the mighty rumble of your humor, but I am too busy looking at a cookie to notice. You, sir, are a hoot and a half.

I don’t like what you do to my backyard in the winter. I look out and see scrawny little trees with persistent vines choking out their life. I see you. Yet when I look out of the kitchen window, I see green grass and the dry leaves clinging to the Japanese Maple and I get a different sense entirely. You can be in two places at once beautifully.

What’s up with Facebook, Lord? You have so many personas that my mind is blown. Tell me the truth. Would you have Unfriended Judas or was he a key player in the destiny of your life? I just can’t tell the bad guys from the good guys anymore. Everyone (meaning you) throws out these gorgeous images and hilarious jokes. They come at me too fast. I am blown away. Perhaps that is the point.

Your ability to disguise yourself is often a mark against you, though. You are so good at it that I overlook your presence in what are probably wonderful people. I am quick to judge. And you are so willing to keep forgiving me.

Sometimes at the grocery story I see you everywhere. You smile as you scan my items. You carry my bags and put them in the trunk of my car. Your eyes are looking at me from so many different people. And I am one of them.

Your fan,
Vicki Woodyard