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"We are big
And God is small,
I love you, Jesus!"

Little Krishna sang in the full force of his three-year-old voice and his age-old heart.

Everything in me began to dance. "Listen to him," I exclaimed. "This is so precious!"

His mother's face lit up with a proud little smile.

"Oh please," I begged her, "don't you ever correct him."

Her eyes became round with surprise.

"He knows. He knows more than his religion teachers. This child knows that in truth God is so small that he can live in his very own heart!"

When we were born, we came straight from God and we probably knew him in the same way as Krishna, this child of Christian-Hindu parentage who was singing his truth outside in the garden. As a spiritual being, we had entered the body of a baby, innocent, vulnerable, and defenseless, but as our mind woke up to the world, we gradually lost our intuitive contact with our Source: God, Omnipresent Consciousness, all-encompassing Love. We forgot our origin as Spirit.


God is love and so are we. We all carry the love of God within us and we know it.

He is the glow of undemanding love that flows from our heart to each other and our child.

What makes us shine when she looks at us, and what do we recognize in his eyes? Love.

What do we feel when we do not fear? Love.

And that is God. There is no love but God's, and all the love we ever experience is his.

He is the peace in our heart or the peace we remember and are yearning for. He is the gratitude in our mind and heart that helps us to forgive and love instead of hate. He is the laughter that bubbles up in us when, for a moment, we forget the past and the future and our baby-joy returns.

It is so easy to love God. Ask little Krishna. Ask the birds in the trees. They don't have their shopping list with worries ready the moment they wake up! As soon as dawn breaks here on the equator, the whole chorus of them bursts out in song. Ten minutes long, they worship. They celebrate the new day. They fill the sky with sound until the air itself seems to vibrate, and only then do they go about their business of finding food.

My God is big and so is yours.

He is the sun and the moon and the stars in the sky and the whole wide world. He is the song of the thrush in spring and early summer and your own voice in the shower that you do not want anyone to hear because you think you cannot sing.

He is the sweet scent of the summer flowers and the appetizing smell of the simple onion frying in your kitchen.

He is the rap singer and his voice, his rhythm, and his words and he is the awesome technique that allows the opera singer to perform the near impossible with her voice. He is the Queen of the Night as Mozart brought her to earth in the grand aria of the Magic Flute.

He is you and I in church and temple, in mosque or prayer room in our moments of exaltation. He is you and I, grumbling or whistling while sweeping the floor. He is the action in us. He is I, sitting behind the computer to write this book, and you who pick it up and read it at this time.