Jesus is everywhere at one time.

My little niece reminded me about Jesus, and his penchant for being everywhere one day after church.    While I was making her a sandwich in the kitchen, she sat in a grown-up chair.
“What did you learn in children’s church today?” I asked her, making conversation.

She stopped swinging her legs and said:  “That Jesus is everywhere.”  She put her elbows on the table then, and rested her face in her hands. “But he lives in your bath tub.”

At nearly three years old, Madelyn has a host of imaginary friends, so I was not surprised she concocted a scenario in which Jesus lived in my bath tub.

It wasn’t until I took her to the potty later that day that I saw Jesus in the bathtub, too.

“See, Aunt Jana? Jesus, “ she said in a tiny, but utterly confident, voice.  “He’s right there.”

I looked behind me and there, behind my garden tub on a shelf, sat a sculpture carved from wood of a bearded man with long locks of carved wooden hair.  I always kind of assumed it was Bob Marley, but whatever.

“Jesus,” she repeated, and made wide sweeping motions with her arms. “Everywhere.”

I think I might put the carving in a more common space in the house, just to remind me that he is everywhere I go.

I’m so grateful for that.