Years ago, my child asked me, How big is God?I pointed to the rainbows on her wall,thrown by a crystal in the window.

I told her we cannot see all of light—only this narrow band,only when things are just so.

I told herLight is bigger than our eyes can see,and God is bigger than that.

I did not tell her thenhow colors vanishand the wall goes blank again, how you can stand, emptied, in the same room,surrounded by what you do not perceive.

I did not tell her thenhow we grow up wanting glory on demand—bargaining with life,trying to pin the sacred in place,a scrap of sun we can hold.

Peter is no different.He climbs a mountain with Jesus. For a moment, Christ breaks through—an unbearable, searing glimpse.

Moses, Elijah appear—The impossible, solid in the glare.

And Peter, terrified, scrambles.He offers to build shelters,to nail the holy down.

A cloud covers them. A voice calls:This is my beloved Son. Listen to him.

And in a moment, it’s over.No prophets, no radiance,only Jesus again,ordinary as your own hands.

They walk back downwith the same feet they climbed with,kicking up dust,the long work waiting below.

They do not get to keep the lightor speak of what they saw.They get the world as it is—the world my daughter, now thirteen, is learning to see.

She asks harder questions now:If there is a God, why do we suffer?How can you believe in something you cannot see?

Cast rainbows don’t answer this.The mountain is far away.The blank wall, the crystal—none of it is enough.

I tell her I cannot know, not fully.I cannot shrink Godinto something I can clutch.I believe only becauseI have known love.

Love is no theory.It quickens our pulse without a touch,it tethers us to strangers,it carries us through pain, and cuts the din of life with a single note.

So I go find love, here, in the work, in the dust,in the turning toward each otherwhen the wall is blank.

I take the next step.I walk back down,not because I understand,but because I am lookingwithin this narrow band of color,for the light we make,until we find ourselves climbing the mountain again.

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