A First Experience with Presence

People see God every day, they just don't recognize him. ~Pearl Bailey

It was 1961, the year Barbie got a boyfriend, Ken, Ernest Hemingway kills himself and the Soviets build a wall dividing East and West Berlin. I was born in Kansas while my parents finished up graduate degrees at Kansas University in Lawrence. Boyfriends, suicide and walls figured significantly in the landscape of my life.

My dad is a chemist and an atheist. He claims to have initially become a non-believer from his college days. My mother was not sure and declared herself to be an agnostic.

Attending a Vacation Bible School at a Baptist Church at four years of age was my introduction to religion. I went with a babysitter’s daughter. I don’t remember much, but I remember being drawn to the face of Jesus.

Because I desired to go, my parents dropped me off at the Presbyterian Church’s Sunday school during my grade school years. Every so often the neighbors gave me a ride and on these occasions we stayed through the church service. I was delighted by the stained glass, the pews, the hymn books and the children’s time with the minister. I especially relished the annual Christmas pageant. I was usually a shepherd, but so much wanted to be Mary or an angel.

Like most children, I loved Christmas. It meant toys and cookies. It meant my family enjoying time together. I often received a new doll for Christmas. My first doll was Chatty Cathy and I took her everywhere with me. Santa came in the middle of the night and left unwrapped gifts under the tree. My brother and I could sneak downstairs as early as we wanted to peak at what Santa left. By the time our parents got up, we had happily played with and explored all our new-found treasures.

We started our celebration on Christmas Eve by putting out plates of homemade cookies, candy, and chips and dips, along with a special Christmas punch or soda pops. First, we sang Christmas songs. My family loved to sing, and my dad had a beautiful, perfect pitch voice. He could pick up and play instruments by ear. One Christmas I recited The Night Before Christmas that we had memorized earlier at school. It was a magical time.

Often, I would sit by the tree lit up with colorful lights and sparkling decorations.

Photo Bob Spring, Pexels

One Christmas Eve I came back down after everyone else had gone to bed and I sat staring at the blinking lights of the Christmas tree. In that moment I felt God and I knew no matter what my parents’ beliefs I could never deny the existence of God. I felt loved and safe and happy; not just within the walls of my home. It was as if somehow I was connected with all the children on earth.

Our home was in the country, surrounded by cornfields. I often walked a farm trail back to the woods. Sometimes, when in the outdoors an expansive peace flooded my soul – an experience I came to believe as God reaching out to me. I could not believe as my parents did that God did not exist in this beautiful world. I felt His presence.