Struggling to Feel God’s Presence? Try This.

Does God feel distant in your day-to-day life? 

Let’s face it—living in today’s world with all its noise, distractions, and false idols, makes the path to sainthood challenging. There are many other voices out there telling us how to act, what to believe, and not to live out our ideals. 

As a Catholic single, the search for a spouse can feel isolating. It is hard to see God’s hand in the rejection, the too-good-to-be-true prospects, and the closed doors over and over again. Many may feel as if God does not truly care about them—if He did, why wouldn’t He answer their prayers for a spouse? Or for that job they want? Or for the loneliness they feel? 

Even as a married person, I struggle often with the feeling that God is distant. The busyness and chaos of raising a family, balancing the household duties, and keeping the spark alive in my marriage pulls me in so many directions, and I often wonder if God even cares about these details of my day. 

And yet, God is with us so closely in every aspect of our life. 

I recently learned this in an unexpected way.

In my morning prayer time one day, I felt prompted to ask God something I was not accustomed to asking. I asked Him to reveal His love to me in a powerful way that day.

It didn’t take long in the busy grocery store later that morning for my three-year old to see something he wanted. There were displays of toys and candy everywhere. While I found the last item on our list, Leo wandered off to yet another display of toys at the end of the aisle. He excitedly came back with a deluxe Hot Wheels set, grinning from ear to ear. “This is what I want for birthday, Mommy!”

I quickly responded with an “oh great, we can put that on your list, honey.” Then I grabbed the cart and began pushing it towards the checkout with Leo skipping along beside me. Glancing over, I noticed he was still holding the Hot Wheels set, and I politely told him to put it back on the display. 

And that was the end of my three-year-old’s joy. 

Suddenly, he was writhing on the floor, screaming so loudly you’d think he was physically in pain. Passerby gave him a wide berth with astonished looks, or just avoided our area altogether through the nearly five minutes of blood-curdling screams. Kneeling on the floor next to him, I spoke calmly to try and soothe him, but to no avail.

Finally, scrambling to our feet, I found myself face-to-face with the store’s assistant manager. She told me that she was going to get Leo some free cookies and other “free stuff” to help him feel better. As she hurried off, I thought to myself, “great…now this bad behavior is going to be rewarded with cookies!”

We limped our way to the checkout line, and soon had stickers, cookies, bananas, and candy bars thrust at us. Leo finally calmed down at the sight of sugar while I paid for the groceries and then wheeled us towards the door, my head hanging low.

And yet, God had a lesson for me in that moment.

Suddenly, the ringing of my phone alarm shook me to my sobered senses. It was 9:15am, the time Leo had been born. I have a daily alarm set for each of my children at their birth times. It is a small way I can remember to thank God for the gift they are, and offer them back to Him for His plan for their lives.

The irony of the alarm’s meaning in the aftermath of this difficult moment stopped me in my tracks. I offered up a stunned prayer, thanking God for the boy who just put us through such an embarrassing scene. Talk about humbling. 

As I finished my prayer, I looked up to see the store florist coming towards us with some orange carnations. “Do you like flowers?” She asked Leo. He grinned and reached out his hand to receive a flower. “Does your sister like them too?” The florist glanced at my daughter in the cart basket, and then gave her a carnation also. 

The flowers were the final piece of the puzzle in this whole event. My recent friendship with St. Thérèse of Lisieux now prompts me to see flowers as a sign of God’s loving promise. He was with me in that moment in such a tangible way. In the tantrum, in the embarrassment, in the lavishing of free grocery store giveaways onto my screaming child, and finally in the flowers. 

My prayer from that morning—to see God’s love in a new and active way throughout my day—had been answered ten-fold. And in the most unexpected way.

God's love is ever-present, especially in the difficulties.

What I learned that day is something perhaps we all could benefit from learning. When we ask God to show us His love, He cannot resist responding (and sometimes, making a scene!).

If you are struggling to recognize God’s presence in your daily life, I challenge you to say this type of prayer daily. Something as simple as this: Dear God, I love you, and I want to know your love in a specific way this day. Please make yourself known to me, as I desire to trust you more. Amen.

And don't worry, He likely won't show up in the form of a tantruming preschooler. What is so beautiful about God’s love for us is that it is as unique as we are. He loves each of us in a special, distinct way. He sees your struggles, your hurts, and your disappointments. God wants to be with us in those struggles... and He is! Let us open our eyes to it.

May you know God’s all powerful, loving presence in your life today, and every day.