God called out to him from the bush, “Moses! Moses!”
He answered, “Here I am.”
God said, “Come no nearer!
Remove the sandals from your feet,
for the place where you stand is holy ground.

Exodus 3:4-5

A daily ritual of our home is the morning care of our dog, Edie, which includes feeding her and letting her out to do her business in our back yard. I often step outside with her to enjoy the last moments of dark before the dawn: looking at the stars, breathing the cold morning air, and listening to the nearby rooster who seems to think the dawn should be announced a few hours earlier than the sun is ready to appear.

Standing on our back patio yesterday morning, I was greeted with a child’s “Helloooo!” coming from the dark beyond a few of our neighbor’s yards. I could not see anyone, but said “hello” and waved to the night. I went back inside the house and a few minutes later saw our nearly 8-year-old grandson walking out of the dark into our backyard. Hood up and hands in his pocket, he moved slowly to our back door.

Sliding our door open, I said, “Good morning Coop.” “Hey Pop, I just came to say “hi” and “bye.” I can’t stay.” He stepped into the house, hood still up and hands still in his pockets. A pair of binoculars hung around his neck and his eyes sparkled as he smiled. I knelt down on the floor, looked directly into his eyes, and hugged him close. I asked, “What are you looking for with your binoculars?” “Coyotes,” he responded. “Did you see any?” “Nope. But I did hear some rustling in the woods.” “Were you scared?” “A little.”

With that, he said he needed to get home. I watched as he walked to the edge of our yard, lifted his binoculars to his eyes, and peered toward the tree line running along the back of the neighborhood. Satisfied that all was clear, he walked slowly toward the fence of his backyard, disappearing into the dark.

I stood at our back door for a few minutes, staring into the shadows where he stepped beyond my sight, and resting in the fullness of the moment. I felt….alive. Really alive. Whole. Complete. The moment was full, as was my heart, and I wanted to hold it as long as I possibly could.

Later in the day, we went to our youngest grandson’s first birthday party. Watching all seven of our grandchildren and a couple of cousins, all under 8 years old, run around joyfully, I thought to myself, these kids are showing what it means to be fully alive. The party was complete chaos and we were all lost in the joyful abandon of their innocent surrender to the moment. Looking around, I noticed the adults brought to fullness of being in it all, smiling and laughing at the pure wonder of the personalities at play.

Waking this morning, I reflected on the story of Moses and the burning bush. The bush was on fire but it was not consumed; it was made holy in what caused it to become more. God’s Divine Presence elevated it, brought it to something more – a fullness of life.

The Hindu greeting, “namaste,” translates to “I greet the divine in you.” I thought of this greeting as I looked into Cooper’s eyes the day before. The spark, the sparkle, that ignites, inflames, that little human being is a reflection of the Divine – an image of it. Precious. Pure. Holy.

Spend a moment with any child, looking deeply into his or her eyes, and you’ll see it. The spark. The sparkle. The flame that burns but does not consume. We often fail to see it in the adults around us. Even more often, we fail to see it in ourselves; we allow it to dim or we dial it back or we just forget about the flame that once burned without consuming.

I held each of my grandchildren for a moment, or two, yesterday. I looked deeply into each of their eyes and I saw it. I saw the spark, the flame burning within. Today, I realize that I was standing on holy ground.

That I am standing on holy ground.