Sunday, October 24, 2010

The Breath of God... and an overactive imagination

It is Sunday morning. 6:37 to be precise. Where am I? In bed. Hubby is still asleep, the cat is scratching something outside the bedroom door. The DVR is recording the Formula 1 race in Korea. The gentle hum of the furnace and the intermittent buzzing of the fridge are the other sounds that keep me awake. There are drivers on the road already. I can here them out my bedroom window, which is only about fifty feet from the highway.

It may seem strange, but I think I can still sense God in these moments. I think the sound of His breathing is what I hear. I can't see anything except the light of my iPod but He is here. Growing up around a lot of hymns, I remember singing and listening to songs about the Breath of God.

My husband is laying beside me, as I glance in his direction, I can see nothing. The darkness is too ... dark right now. But I can here him breathe. I reach out to touch him. He moans a bit. He is still very real, I just can't look into his eyes right now.

What is it like for us finite human beings to sense God in moments like these when we can't see him? Easy for some and challenging for others. What does the Breath of God sound like? Is it the wind that sometimes whistles through the cracks of our little house? Maybe it is the silence that is trying to exert itself over the other noises. Maybe, just maybe it is my overactive imagination. I have one of those. I think all writers are prone to live life with a mind full of the pictures that they have created.

How do I know? How do I really know that God is with me right now? That question is something that has been through my mind on occasion this fall. I am not that analytical. I live by emotion, imagination and passion... and faith. How does one analyze all that? I somehow think a great portion of faith is imagining it to be as real as the things we can physically touch.

The breeze creeps in through the window. I feel a tingling sensation on my back. I would like to imagine it as the Breath of God caressing my sore and aching muscles.

God is real to me. I can't analyze or explain any other alternative. But as for the sensations that I experience... maybe it is the breath of God or my overactive imagination?

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