When I walked into the coffee shop,
I saw
God sitting at a small table
Sipping espresso and reading a newspaper.
She was about seventy years old.
I couldn’t believe it.
No one else seemed to realize that God was in the room,
Closer than four tables away,
Closer than life itself.
I took a deep breath,
And watched God take another sip of coffee.
I wanted to stand up and shout in a loud voice,
“Listen, people; this is a very special coffee shop!
This is where God chooses to drink coffee
And read the newspaper.
This place is sacred.”
But I remained silent.
No need to scare everybody.
Then, I looked at the sunlight coming through the front window,
And the way it lit up dust motes in the air—
Millions and millions of individual particles
Dancing.
From behind the counter came the tinkling sounds
Of silverware being dumped into a sink.
Small groups of people talked quietly at their tables,
And a cash register rang up a sale.
I suspected that this was the only morning in the history of all time
That it was going to happen just like this.
I thought to myself,
“It’s a lucky thing I came here this morning.”
After a while, I got up my courage and walked over to God’s table.
I said, “Hi, what’s your name?”
God said, “Jane Smith.”
I said, “Really?”
She said, “No, not really.”
We both smiled,
And then I walked out of the coffee shop and into the street.
Some people go to church to find God,
And you can find her there if you know how to look.
But you can also find her at the coffee shop.
by Bob Harwood