I think about you a lot, God. Like, a lot. I strive to be perceptive. To listen. To watch. To notice. But sometimes I just think. I think about you. I think about things like: I wonder what’s the closest we’ve ever got? Of course, I know you have taken up residence here and don’t leave, but that’s not quite sure what I mean. I’m talking about places—the places where we’ve nearly been fully in each other’s presence. The places where your divinity was so intertwined with my humanity and a place so earthly, that there just wasn’t really much room to get any closer. For the life of me, I can’t think of it. But, oddly enough, I know it’s happened. We’ve been close. We’ve overlapped. Otherwise, how could I want more of it? So, even as I say, “Amen!” the question still lingers: I wonder what’s the closest we’ve ever got?