When You Need It, It Appears

I've never been a churchgoer. I used to joke that hiking was my church, partly because I did it almost every Sunday, partly because it was what made me feel closest to God. I've always found that my connection to source, spirit, whatever you want to call it, feels strongest when I'm communing with the natural world.

It always seemed to me that it was the nights when I was lying on my back looking at the stars and the days when I was marveling at hummingbirds that brought me closest to a connection with the Divine. It's during those times that I'm most aware something greater is at work in our world. Something beyond any of our finite human capacities. It's holding us. Keeping us joined to it and to each other.

I needed that feeling today. Stuff is going on.

I went into the backyard to dump the compost I'd collected in my kitchen and as soon as the sun hit my face, I felt the need to sit down and look for it. The connection.

I rested on the concrete steps outside our sliding glass door and let the light warm my cheek. I listened to the trees rattling their leaves. I watched the stillness of my lawn.

And then I heard church bells singing a song, telling me it was twelve o'clock.

I've never heard these in the two years I've lived in this house. Hearing them today felt like a sign. A reminder. 
I'm here.