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GIST - November 1999 Issue
What Is God


Ellen          Dr Ellen Wilma Margareta Josepha Elizabeth Jermini

We have all wondered from time to time about the creation of the world. We would like to find out who, what, where, why and how God is. It was not surprising that it was so with Melissa, my seven-year-old neighbor who came visiting me with her hair dancing in the spring breeze. Her eager eyes penetrated my being as she questioned me about things I often wondered myself now I had to give an answer.

          I was arranging the kitchen drawers when Melissa lifted up Monica, her Barbie doll, and demanded to know all the answers at once. Then just as quickly she gently turned to comb Monicaís long blond tresses. Lovingly and confidently she dressed her with a wardrobe from the neat costumes she carried in a small pink suitcase.

          Melissa was born as I was holding her motherís hand since her husband was away in service. Even at birth her inquisitive nose and bright charming eyes penetrated everything and everyone. Everyone calls her "their" special girl, curious to know everything.

          "What is God," Melissa insisted again, breaking a brief silence. Her curly blond hair bounced up and down, as she looked at me square in the eyes with her enchanting alluring significant eyes. Seven is the time of great interest challenging to my thinking searching for a clear and simple answer.

          You want to know about God? Well, God is your lovely blond hair, God is your radiant smile, God is you mommy and daddy, God is your Barbie doll, God is everything, I searched my mind for the truth to be straightforward, knowing that this would be an ongoing long long query time.

          "Everything is God!" she questioned me while pushing her chair closer to me, ever so much closer to me. Her cute little snub nose virtually hugged the kitchen counter, she watched me making order in my kitchen drawers. Demandingly she lifted her finger and pointed directly into my face and said, "You are God too!"

          I had to smile. "Yes, I am God too. God is your doll too," I said casually pointing to Monica being held upside down by one leg as Melissa searched my face again and again, not quite believing that everything, EVERYTHING, is God.

          "Really, Melissa, God is your dollís long golden hair, its blue eyes and its tiny ears, God is Monicaís pink suitcase there in the corner and God is even the dresses you carry in it."

          Intuitively she cuddled her doll lovingly in her arms. Disarmingly she leaned over her beloved Barbie saying, "You are God, you are God," she whispered these precious words in Monicaís ears, snuggling her ever so gently.

          For a few minutes Melissa surrounded her doll with a tender embrace. Then her eyes watered and she looked up at me with a hopeful look in her eyes and asked with all the goodness that was within her, "What does God do?"

          Melissa wanted to know more. I felt overwhelmed with the responsibility this beautiful youngster had placed in me. The tears she shed were tears of joy in becoming closer to her divine self, her God self.

          "God does everything, as it IS everything." I sought illustrations to make my point clear to my little friend. Just then the golden sun flashed through the window. I pointed to the sunbeams splashing on the kitchen floor.

          "The warm rays of the sun are God; it gives warmth and light during the day. Just as the moon and the stars you see far out in the clear night sky, each is God. They each shine for you and speak to you. Listen carefully! The sun, the moon and the stars are only a few of the voices of God s talking!

          "God can speak!" Her wonderment illumined an innocent spark.

          "God speaks.

          "God speaks to us as we quietly take time to carefully listen. Godís voice sounds in us as the warm feeling of love, every thought is God speaking very clearly to us."

          I felt overwhelmed. Once more she pierced my eyes with her glance, compelling me to speak ever more lovingly and gently to fulfill OUR question.

          "You see, up there on the hills, God is also those rocks, the big ones and the small funny looking ones."

          Melissa attentively listened, "Do they speak too?"

          "They speak as you listen," I smilingly answered my little neighbor angel, so smart and innocent.

          "God speaks through your giggles and surprise, through thoughts like chasing a butterfly or trying to catch a cloud in the sky," I assured once more.

          "God is the little buds of springtime everywhere around in every tree, in every flower. Can you imagine each of those flowers growing wild in the field, those tiny belly flowers almost invisible until you lie on your tummy and put your eyes right on the ground to look with Monica all those beautiful long and short ones in the woods, near the rivers and in your mommyís garden. They all are God. God is all you can imagine, all you can think of it is all God and all talks to you."

          After an endless pause Melissa inquisitively looked across the counter at me. Hesitatingly she asked again, "Are you sure, really sure, are you sure my doll is really  God?"

          "Your doll really is God!"

Her bright eyes sparkled with comprehension and she shouted out to me in confidence and realization, "Then Spot, my cat, is God! My dumb little brother Ron is God!" She accepted the facts now with ease.

"Right angel," I agreed. I felt empty and yet so full. I left saying more to a long silence.

          "If everything is God, why do you throw God in the paper basket?" She watched me sorting out things from my drawers. Her questions continued to surprise me. I thoroughly loved it.

          "All and everything is God," I calmly reassured her and myself.

          "You can make choices of what you like in your world and what you do not like in your world. That does not mean that those things you get rid of are bad. Just so I make space for my new and beautiful things. I let all the old stuff go. One day you might choose to be riding a beautiful bicycle. Your doll remains always your doll even if you leave Monica alone and play with your new bike. All God. All is good. All is very good even things you lay aside and do not play with for a while.

          As I looked into her accepting face I thought of the many useless items I discarded. Just then I found two old grubby packages of flower seeds: Dahlia and Zinnia. I remembered they had been there forever. Smile, worthless, dried out stuff I thought careless dumping them in the wastebasket.

          "No, no," Melissa screamed! "They are God! They are beautiful flowers. Look how beautiful the picture on the package is!" She gently picked the flower seeds out of the basket.

          "They are beautiful!" she cried. "We must plant them in my garden. They are God! They look nice in my garden."

          "All right, all right, all right!" I agreed, taking Melissaís hand holding the seed packets. I was ready to fulfill her confident expectant request.

          "Lets prepare soil. If you find three flowerpots you can plant your seeds." As two intent children we worked in those flowerpots, already seeing flowers growing in her miniature garden.

          As we sow, so we harvest, I thought, watching Melissa carefully watering her freshly planted seeds.

          I mused; indeed with God all things are possible. Her caring, her love, her enthusiasm to see the flowers, they had to be already blooming, already created as a colorful happy abundant flower garden.

          Many years have passed yet Melissa still shines in my heart and thought. Memory is a joyous tool to relive the past. As I see the beautiful Zinnias and Dahlias, which brighten the front of my home, the Citadel, where I live and Melissa lives again and forever.

          I remember: Indeed, God is everywhere. God is all. Who, what, when, where and how? God is me and everyone and everything. God is all. God is the eternal now. God is omnipresent. God IS! Yes, Melissa, I remember!