Friday, April 20, 2007

My dearest God,

As I prepared for my renewal leave, I purchased a laptop computer to use for my writing. At the last minute I realized my space was limited and the computer, although one of the lightest on the market, (which is why I bought it) was still too heavy. I left it behind.

As I write this letter to you, I recognize why I did not carry my computer with me. I know now what you had in mind. I had to search for places in which to write. Just like I searched for signs of your presence, so did I have to look for ways to communicate with you. I had to visit unlikely places in order to have a computer on which to write. Bars, coffee shops, hotel lobbies, libraries, restaurants, Internet cafes, basements all became sites of your presence. In the daily living of ordinary people, I discovered you.

Even a smoke-filled bar became a place where I found you sitting beside me. I heard the sounds of Italian persons singing, talking, laughing with one another. I had no idea what they were saying; I just know it was a friendly place where God lived. Writing in a cold basement lead me to a conversation with persons who were traveling around the world. Trying to get online in an African business office taught me patience; life is not instant at least technologically in Africa. Sitting in front of a computer in a very small lobby in Paris showed me how life is lived through the eyes of a front desk clerk. Life is not always easy, especially with demanding Americans.

You wanted me to see life from a different perspective. A quiet moment of writing became a learning experience...every day. The people around me became part of me, had something to do with what I was writing about. Their reality became part of mine.

Today I'm writing from a library in my hometown of Tipton. Sitting in the back corner of the computer room, I look around to see people who are generations away from the generation of children I grew up with here. I'm sure some are related. I'm blown away by the genius of your spirit who puts me in places that take me back home.

And home is where I find you, every time. Home is wherever I find myself and discover your presence. I'm home here. I'm home at home. I'm home now and in this place. Grateful.

How is it
that I always
wind up at home?
Even when I am away?
Perhaps
it's because
home is where you are.
It seems
I have not given up
my searching,
my journey,
my pilgrimage.
My trek
for your presence
continues.

Love always, Andrea