A blessing

After offering an impromptu guided mediation in my meditation class at the JCC, a recently widowed woman came to me and said, "You made me hopeful." She gave me a hug and whispered in my ear, "I hope God hears you." She leaned back, took my hands and said, "I hope He hears you." And once more, "I hope God hears you." She said it three time, as if she was calling God's attention. Calling God to be aware of me, of what I said, of what I offered her. All I could do was kiss her hands. I know a blessing when I receive one; what else was I to do but thank the soft hands that offered it to me? This is my job. This is what I do for a living. Try to tell me that I am not blessed. What more can God offer me that she did not offer me in that moment? Tell me, was it not enough that her ears heard? Wasn't it enough that a hopeless woman found hope in my words? Where wasn't God in all of this? God was in my meditation, the words I spoke in the moment with the love I held in my heart, and God was in her heart, opening it to receiving, and the possibility of hoping. Where wasn't God? He/She/It heard. And spoke. And wrapped arms around me, and whispered, and kissed hands that offered a blessing.