When the ancient Israelites were journeying through the Promised Land, they would often construct a monument of stones and call it "Ebenezer," meaning "thus far has God helped us." In my own life, God's help was so present to me during and after Katrina that I wrote the story of His Providence and called it "Ebenezer Road" (not published).
Karl Rahner, the greatest theologian of the 20th century, once said that every person has encountered God in his/her life. To those who aver that they have never encountered God, he says, "O yes, you have encountered Him!" But I'd be willing to bet that not one in thirty people can tell you how, when, or where that encounter took place.
It has been said that unless we find God in our own lives, we will not find Him at all. But reflection has not been part of our culture, as it was, for example, in Greek culture. So turning outwards to the world around us for stimulation, we hardly know how to turn within our own lives and histories to find God.
As I go back through my own history, I can find so many landmarks along the road, places where I met God, though at the time, I may not have recognized the encounter. One of those times was after my third child was born. I had had three children in four years, with all of the attendant ear infections, tonsillitis, and frequent hospitalizations, etc. Since I nursed all my children, I think I had not slept more than an hour and half in those four plus years. I thought I was doing fine until one day I found I could not stop crying; I think sheer exhaustion had set in.
My husband took three days off from work, and I went to the Cenacle, a retreat house in Metairie, for rest and recuperation. There I met Sr. Gautreaux, a nun trained in counseling. The first night I met her, I simply mentioned that I couldn't stop crying, but that I had no real problems -- the kind that other people had. She did not try to counsel me, telling me that God loved me, for example, or offer words of practical advice. She did not pray with me or for me. She simply asked me one question: Who is God to you?
She asked me to ponder the question overnight. And the answer to that question changed my life.
I came back the next day and told her that God was the God of my past and occasionally of my present, but He was not the God of my future. That is, I could look back in my life and see where He was, and sometimes I could sense His presence in the moment, but that I could not trust Him for the future. In other words, I thought I was responsible for handling all the problems of each day. The burden rested on my shoulders, and I thought I should be able to handle it by myself. I didn't really think God would be there for me in the future.
The following day, as I was packing to leave the Cenacle, I heard a bird singing and singing and singing, really loud! I turned, and there on my windowsill sat a cardinal, singing its little heart out! Truly a moment of grace for me, as the thought went through my mind: You don't have to solve all the problems alone; all you have to do is to get up each morning and sing!
It was the beginning of a new journey toward God for me, even though it took years for me to travel that new road.
I now find it a prayerful experience for me to look back on my life in 10-year segments, asking myself where God was in each of those segments of my life. And discovering His presence for me in the past leads me to trust that He will continue to be there for me in the future!