To Feel Is To Believe

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My God speaks to me in the silence and in whispers ~
through the gentle breeze,
the caressing wind,
the gurgling sounds of a newborn.
He leaves me love notes and reminders all over the place ~
in the fragile beauty of the flower,
the soft melodies from nature,
the relaxing vista of the sunset,
the glorious quiet of a breaking day.
He does many small things I take for granted to keep me alive ~
the air that I breathe,
the water that I drink,
the loving people he has surrounded me with.
And yet in my moments of weakness,
I ask him to show himself more palpably
and to speak to me more loudly.
But if he were to come in storm and thunder,
in a mighty rush of the wind,
in torrential rains or rampaging waters,
I would probably die from the awe and shock of the experience.
I will settle for the small and quiet ways he speaks to me then.
I will be aware of his presence even
when I make myself blind, deaf and mute
to the love notes he strews into my life daily.

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