Last Saturday, I found myself sitting cross-legged in a circle of adults, all of us on the floor of an immaculate elementary school classroom. It was around 8:30 in the morning. Way too early to be awake on a day off, let alone awake and sitting on the floor of someone else's classroom. I was beginning to think I should have, in fact, asked for that extra shot of espresso after all.

Yet I soon found myself transfixed - drawn into the box of sand on the floor. Slowly, deliberately, our instructor unrolled first one, and then another piece of blue felt across the surface of the sand. She carefully placed the end of the second piece so it was just covering the end of the first. And as she brought the simple wooden figures one by one across the sand to stand by the felt, I felt myself drawn ever more deeply into the story until I was standing among the People of God on the shores of the Red Sea. I could almost hear Pharaoh's chariots thundering across the desert. I could almost feel the great wind as she gradually rolled the pieces of felt back, creating a path of dry land through the Red Sea. My heart sang with Miriam as she led the People of God in dance and song after they'd crossed safely to the other side.

Before that morning, I'd known relatively little about Godly Play. Part of my reason for attending this training was to become more familiar with the program we currently use with 3- and 4-year-olds here at Christ Church. While I was looking forward to learning more about the program, I'll admit I wasn't expecting to encounter God that morning. But that's not how God works.

As adults, we often mistakenly expect God to show up when and how we want. We're often unwilling or unable to encounter God in our everyday lives and experiences. And yet there I was, meeting God, sitting in a circle around a sandbox full of wooden toys and two pieces of fabric.

Which makes me wonder: where else might God be trying to meet me? I wonder where God might be trying to meet you... I wonder...