I saw God

Doubting His existence happens.

For some of us, it's like, damn, how can God let cancer and diabetes and  fried-chicken-and-doughnut sandwiches happen?

How can He sit by and let Alzheimer's disease chip away at the brains of those we love and hold dear?

And then He does stuff like surround us with friends and family who carry us through the darkest days, who bring over frozen lasagna, who arrive with cleaning supplies and scrub our bathrooms, who leave emails and texts just to say they love us and are thinking of us. God is also known to show up in the form of a hummingbird who dances outside our windows and in the sound of a child's laughter.

One ridiculously early morning last week I bundled up, throwing a coat over my jammies, in order to take Fergus out for a quick pee. My hair matched my mood as I looked out the window and saw nothing but a light rain and fog. There would be no coffee until business was done.

It was just after dawn when I carried a reluctant dog down the stairs because dogs know when the weather sucks. It's those days when dogs claim to be doing us a favor by finding a place in the warm house to do what really ought to be done in the nippy outdoors. 

I'm not known for my silence but when I stepped outside I was speechless. OK, I did whisper something along the lines of "What the heck?" when I first saw my car, and then there was silence. The kind of silence that accompanies awe.

This was no prank. No one had placed a white sheet on my blue Betty. Instead this thin blanket of white had formed overnight. A few minutes later and I would have missed it. This breathtaking snow-ice combo would have continued its slow slide down the hood of my car, making its way to the ground where it would have disappeared into water.

And sometimes He shows up on a Subaru.