Two weeks ago my kindergartener and I were sitting at the dining room table after dinner. I was helping him with his math homework, which involved counting and coloring stars. He sat there, blue crayon in hand, intent on his work, when all of a sudden he spoke.
“God made the stars to give us light,” he said.
“That’s right. He did.”
“And he gave us the moon and the sun, too,” he informed me solemnly.
I love it, these childhood flashes of spiritual connection, this flexible little mind that thinks of God right in the middle of a math worksheet. Increasingly, I can do the same; I have become better over the years at letting awareness of God’s presence color the various events of my day. But there are still many things I do where it’s harder to sense God, to connect the dots between my task and the divine.
I think of things like sitting in traffic, or grading stacks of papers, or waiting on hold with the DMV. And I’m not sure I’ve ever thought of God while doing a math assignment, unless it involved a desperate silent prayer uttered moments before a pre-calculus test. (I’m a word girl, not a number girl.)
But St. Ignatius believed you can find God in all things, and ultimately I believe it, too. Some things and situations are easier than others, but maybe that’s why we need other people; they find the connections we miss, just like my son did when his math homework became an occasion to think of the Creator. Other people see the fingerprints of God in places where I just see smudges. And when they share, they gently train us to have a sharper, clearer vision than we did before.
So that’s my challenge: to try to make my mind as flexible as my kindergartener’s, a mind that bends toward God even in the traffic and the math.