How to feel close to God: A Convoluted Guide

I suppose the easy way would be to say that, to find God, you simply walk into a church, get down on your knees, and pray.

Where God is housed, He is present, and where

He is present, it is impossible not to feel Him;

or so I've been told.

See, I grew up in churches, surrounded by downward tilted heads around full dining tables, clasped hands encircling a spread we'd never finish, the breath of God running through each of our mouths in the moments before we said "Amen."

I also grew up in hospital rooms, fighting rings, and chairs separated by plexiglass while I was asked to talk to my momma through a phone attached to the wall.

I have felt more God in me in the seconds before and after I blocked a punch that would've knocked my breath out than in any church building.

Have felt His touch more in the powerful winds blowing my hair into my eyes as I walk to work just before a storm than I have at any baptism.

Have heard His voice more in these words that I write than in any hymn.

Religion, for me, is not church related.

It's personal.

I have always felt God in the same moment that I felt most alive.

Like I was flying.

For Red, religion is found in the clouds of flour that fly through the air and coat her hands as she kneads her dough. It's in the taste of her latest project when it finally comes out just right, that sweetness precisely reminiscent of Grace.

For Kelsey, God is in the beauty of the world around her, it's in little things, and in the way that her favorite old lens is cracked and always sends light careening wildly across every photo she takes, altering her perception and reminding her to look up and see the Light for herself once in a while.

For my grandfather, God is found in skipping church once a month to go down by the river and fish. He is found in nature, in silence, in soaking up the sun's rays, catching your own dinner and praying to thank Him for "providing it, same as always."

We all feel close to God in different ways.

Calm and chaos,

silence and soothing sound,

in solitude and in company,

so maybe this is less a guide to finding God,

and more an itemized list of all the ways the people I love find themselves,

and how divinity follows them.

And maybe that's enough.