Finding God in hiccups
Tonight I held a baby. And he had the hiccups.
While I watched his face and saw his lungs rise and fall beneath the mountainous blanket he wore, his body would flinch with each tiny "hic."
As I stood in my living room, I realized that the life and breath inside him was the same life and breath inside myself. Every breath and all life - big and small, infant and elderly, hiccup and cough - comes from the same place: God.
When you hiccup, or the person around you, or the baby you happen to be holding, remember that God can be found even there, in every "hic."
While I watched his face and saw his lungs rise and fall beneath the mountainous blanket he wore, his body would flinch with each tiny "hic."
As I stood in my living room, I realized that the life and breath inside him was the same life and breath inside myself. Every breath and all life - big and small, infant and elderly, hiccup and cough - comes from the same place: God.
When you hiccup, or the person around you, or the baby you happen to be holding, remember that God can be found even there, in every "hic."
