I'm guilty. Guilty of thinking that God was at the altar or in the chapel or the prayer room. But as Ann said, "All the days held God." If I stop to think of that, I am in awe. My breath catches in my throat and I swallow hard, the weight of it bearing down on my soul. All the days. Not just the holy days. Not just the days I "feel" Him. All the days. All the days held God.
And not just the days, but all the moments. It seems I've missed a hundred moments, a thousand opportunities to see. To hear. To love. To live. But the promise is this: if I seek, I will find. If I look, I will see. If I listen, I will hear. If I breathe, I will smell the aroma of His sweetness.