Is it in the embrace of a familiar stranger
sitting next to you at church
Or in the soft stroke of a grandmother's
weathered finger's
On her grandchild's cheek?
Is it the hand that distributes pamphlets
Proclaiming God's wrath on a street corner
Or in the grasp of a toddler
As he wraps his tiny hand around his father's
finger to guide his first steps?
Is it in the statues and decorations that adorn
a sanctuary
Or in the silent reward of an unseen kind act?
Is it in the lukewarm words spoken in a time of
need
Or in the strength of another's shoulder
When yours are too weary from life's struggles?
For God's touch isn't felt in the objects or
things that we fill our lives with,
But in the indescribable moments when His
presence is near.
God's touch is in the painted face on a purple
pansy
Waltzing with a gentle spring breeze.
God's touch is in the warmth of the sun shining
through a frosted window
In the dead of winter.
God's touch is felt as He guides us through the
deep valley
That lies in front of us.
God's touch is felt when He wraps His
unconditional loving arms
Around the child in all of us that longs to
call Him Daddy.
