Our church recently started a Mom's Day Out Program.
Two days a week, the halls are filled with tiny people toddling their way around. My ears ring with their joyous laughter and giggles and, of course, their shrieks and screams when they realize their mothers are leaving them....FOREVER. No, not really. But sometimes the way they scream sure sounds like that's what they think.
Anyways, today one of our priests was walking down the hall and passed the toddler room. He walked by and waved and as he moved past the door he heard one of the kids say, "(gasp) I just saw GOD!" I love the genuine amazement in kids. The priest is always here, in God's house, and for all they know he sleeps here. So, naturally he must be God.
I miss the way the world, and people, looked through my childhood eyes. As the priest was telling me about this encounter, I couldn't help remembering my childhood vision of the Big Man Himself. I used to think that God looked like my dad. I vividly remember having dreams about God and even though I never saw his face, He was always wearing a robe just like my dad's and He had on my dad's slippers. Maybe it's because the first prayer I learned was the Lord's Prayer.
I would be the kid that took "Our Father," to mean "the father of my brother and I."