Photo by Jerry Wang on Unsplash

        Madeline L’Engle, in her book of reflections, Glimpses of Grace, wrote about the ability of children — especially toddlers — to reach a place of being totally outside themselves when they play. I remember going for walks with my great-grandson Riley when he was two. He would stop at every sewer grate, lean over, and listen intently as he stared down through the slats, lost in the mystery of what might be below. Madeline says that in these moments a child is completely beyond self. She calls it ecstasy.

I use words like peace, wonder, and awe to describe those moments.

Some of us are so busy that God catches us by surprise with them. We are stopped by a spectacular sunrise, a gift from a much-loved child, or an unexpected hug. Suddenly, we step beyond conscious thought and rest fully in the moment — with God.

For me, those moments often come when I’m with someone I love dearly — my husband, Riley, and so many others. They also come when I’m writing and when I’m preaching. All thoughts of self — worries, pain, fear, regret — fade away. I become totally focused. I feel God’s presence.

Whatever words we use — peace, love, ecstasy — to describe these moments, they are wonderful. Some of us are so busy that awe and mystery catch us by surprise. A pair of cardinals fly in to the bird feeder just outside our window. They’re so close we can see individual feathers. Yes, we’re hurrying to get ready for our day. Still, we pause. We stare. We feel goosebumps rise on our arms. That’s awe. That’s stepping outside self-consciousness. That’s experiencing the Spirit.

We can’t force these moments, of course. But we can live with open hearts — expecting them, ready to receive them. I remember returning from the East Coast one fall. Around every curve in the road, God’s magnificence spread out before us. The whole world seemed ablaze with colour. Both Tom and I were filled with wonder and peace. We have never forgotten that journey. Moment after moment, our hearts were filled with awe, gratitude, joy.

Why do I love others?
Why do I write?
Why do I continue to lead worship?

Because I love flying on God’s Spirit. I love the wonder — the awe — of letting go and being one with God.

As St. Valentine’s Day approaches, I invite you to begin each day with a simple prayer:

This day, loving God, I give myself into your care.
Open my heart to the gifts of awe and wonder you have waiting for me.
I will find them in people, in nature, in work, and in play.
I am truly grateful. Amen.
(May it be so.)