A (Very) Short Story: The Question

He was walking through the autumn-thinned woods, a carpet of fallen yellow beneath his feet. He put one foot in front of the other, the walk more of an obligation to himself than anything else. Sometimes, he thought, he prayed while he walked, but today he could not gather the will. The woods were silent and empty, as was he.

He walked on, stepping over fallen logs and zagging around occasional puddles from yesterday’s rain. Light cut through the upper reaches of oaks and hickories, casting both beams and shadows on the ground before him. A breeze lifted gently off the stream to his left, and he caught a whiff of dead leaves and rotting logs.

And out of nowhere he asked: “Where are you, God, in all of this?”

And a choir responded.

All he had learned from poetry sang out, “God is in the light and shadow.”

All he had learned from music intoned, “listen to the wind blowing through the trees. God is there.”

From study and reading he heard, “God is in everything. Pay attention.”

From his beating heart he knew that God was deep inside him.

He knew all this and yet could not find God. He could not summon a prayer.

Then a still, small voice said, “I am in your question.”

And he smiled and walked on and, knowing that was right, he whispered, “well, amen then.”