Ask anyone, and theyíll tell you: a child knows where God lives.
He lives in a Sunday walk with Gran and Grandpa.
He lives in that big olí tree down the back of the yard; the one thatís good for climbing.
He lives in the hugs and kisses from Mom and Dad. He lives in the smiles from kindly teachers.
He lives in the sun on the warm grass, in the cooling summer breeze; he lives in gentle fall of snowflakes, in the majesty of thunder, in the solid splendor of a rainbow.
Heís what brings awe and wonder to a childís world: He can make the rain go away, He can make the stars shine; He can make the birds sing; He can even make sick people better. This is what children believe, and why? They believe these things, because we tell them they are so, but also because children are so much closer to their real natures than we are, so much closer to the God that knows their hearts; the world of artifice has not yet begun its subtle work upon them.
God didnít make us in his image to be lonely, or alienated, or scared.
He made us, so that when we dream, when we hurt, when we laugh or fear or cry, we know that we can turn to Him. The Creator knows how to work with his creation; how to fix it when itís broken, how to care for it, and nourish it, so that it may be of full use again in this extraordinary journey we call life.
Ask any older person and they will tell you that life is short.
A child can only see a sea of days before him, so long, that it takes a leap of faith to even begin to comprehend where they might end.
If the adult were to have such faith, surely, it might occur to him, those days belong to God.
Our task, is to find out what it is we must do within this sea of days, before the summer of our sun sets, and the memory of the child which once lingered, becomes lost, and we find ourselves confused again, asking for directions about how to get to God.
When asking for directions, your faith will tell you this: Look into your heart, find your true and loving Self again, and make your way to God.