“You must get so angry with us human beings,” I said to God as I ate my oatmeal, watching the sun take her morning stroll into the sky. “We tend to muck up everything.” I thought of the headlines I’d recently read.

“People attempt to understand me by ascribing human emotions to me,” God answered. “But the truth is, I don’t get angry. At the heart of anger is fear, and in me, there can be no fear, for I am perfect love.”

“You love us all the time?”

“All the time,” God answered. “How are those oats that I grew for you?” He asked.

“Quite tasty, thank you.”

“If you go about your day seeing me in everything I’ve created, even your oats, you’ll see how much I love you.”

A squirrel scampered into the garden for the peanuts I’d put out by the feeder. She sat with her tail in a backward question mark as if to ask, “Do you see God in me?” I laughed. “Yes, I do.” She found a peanut and joined me for breakfast, her black eyes shining with love.

 

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