How did a deep place open three minutes after I parked the car in the driveway upon coming home from church? I did not climb a mountain. I did not intend to go on a pilgrimage.

And yet, as I walked, something immense happened within me that lifted my burdens, intensified my intimacy with God, and heightened my acceptance of my creatureliness, my acceptance that ultimately I am not in control because my being here today, and my being here at all, is an utter gift, an utterly amazing gift, a gift that is far beyond my capacity to arrange for or to achieve or to in any way pull off.

All this flooded into my awareness, into my soul, as I gazed at the last sunlight of the day on those beautiful barren trees, and maybe it became possible partly because I was walking along feeling thankful for the gentleness of the ground beneath my feet.

What I am learning these days is that we can move from thin place to thin place in our everyday life. Each one changes our consciousness, wakes us up a little more, until we find that thin places are not unusual, but everywhere. It’s just that sometimes we forget to look.