Among other places I feel God’s presence, I feel him when I see people interact with one another in some sort of personal moment. Like the other day, I was waiting in the lobby of an apartment complex when I woman came downstairs with a wallet in her hand. Shortly after, another woman came in through the front doors and greeted the first woman with an excited, “Hi, are you (name)??” They were so gracious to one another, yet barely new each other, I could tell. I realized that the one lady had found her wallet and they were meeting to return it.

When strangers do nice things for each other, and I’m lucky enough to witness and notice it, that’s when I see God.

The second place is…the grocery store! Seriously. Dozens and dozens of people–old, young, single, married, abled, disabled, wealthy, poor–all mixed together doing something that we all need to do to survive: finding food. There are few places in America that are as democratic as our local Market Basket. Often times, it looks like the United Nations in our grocery store, too: people from all sorts of cultures and countries and races, speaking a Tower of Babel-like variety of languages. Old people creeping along with walkers, young moms with crying babies, folks down on their luck looking for bargains, affluent people loading up on shrimp and steak…the grocery store is a microcosm of our world, and I often look across this sea of humanity and think, “This is where God is.”

Honestly.