A Spiritual Awakening Amidst Global Uncertainty
Two months into the global pandemic, author Karen Rinaldi began a daily practice she called "When I look for God." With the world changing rapidly around her, she sought moments of grounding amidst the uncertainty. This spiritual yearning had been building for five years, sparked by a profound experience while surfing that made God feel suddenly and deeply known to her.
From Catholic Upbringing to Skeptical Adulthood
Growing up Catholic, Rinaldi attended Sunday church services, catechism classes, and received all the traditional sacraments. She was baptized as an infant, took her first communion at seven, and was confirmed at eleven. Yet none of these formal religious experiences brought her closer to understanding the divine.
As a young teenager, she rejected the Church entirely, unable to reconcile its promotion of human biases—including misogyny, homophobia, and abuse—with the concept of a loving God. For decades, she identified as a skeptic, until middle age brought what felt like a genetic calling to explore spirituality more deeply.
The Pandemic Practice: Seeking God in Limited Spaces
During lockdown, Rinaldi established a routine of looking for God within the newly constrained boundaries of her existence. Each morning, she would walk outside, sit on a bench by the shore, and cast a wide gaze across the water. Taking deep breaths to clear mental clutter, she would open herself to receiving God's presence.
Some mornings brought nothing but quiet reflection. Other times, divine moments appeared as if conjured: pods of dolphins breaking the water's surface, young whales breaching near shore, an osprey carrying fish to feed fledglings, or a foggy morning revealing a father and child sharing a surfboard in gentle waves.
Divine Intrusions: God as Unwelcome Visitor
Rinaldi's understanding of God shifted dramatically one morning when a man sat uncomfortably close on her bench during early pandemic days. Her initial irritation at this intrusion evaporated when she realized his loneliness and mental distress. Listening with compassion instead of asking him to leave, she discovered an unexpected love for this struggling stranger.
"Who says God isn't also an intrusion or discomfort?" she realized. "Maybe God sometimes arrives in the disguise of a clueless dude come to ruin your perfectly lovely morning." This experience echoed biblical wisdom about seeking and finding, challenging her assumptions about how divinity manifests.
God as Housefly: Finding the Sacred in Annoyance
In another trying moment, a persistent housefly became Rinaldi's unlikely spiritual teacher. As the insect repeatedly buzzed around her head while she worked remotely, she grabbed an electric tennis racket zapper with murderous intent. After ten frustrating minutes of failed swatting, a sudden awareness stopped her.
Putting down the weaponized racket, she accepted the fly's presence. What had been an annoying problem became afternoon company, teaching her that God might appear in even the most irritating forms.
The Practice Continues: Living in the Present
After six years of spiritual practice, Rinaldi acknowledges she still doesn't know what God is or isn't. What she has discovered is that the act of looking for God provides respite from rumination and opens her to experiences beyond the noisy self. Practically speaking, it offers relief from anxiety about the future and acceptance of the past by anchoring her in the present moment.
She now trusts that she will see God when God allows it, often when she isn't even looking. Quiet spaces and intentional seeking are no longer necessary—attunement is enough. For the first time, she understands the faithful assertion that God is everywhere, even in unwelcome or desolate moments.
"Of course, I don't ever really find God," Rinaldi concludes. "God finds me. Even when God is a fly."
Karen Rinaldi serves as Senior Vice President and Executive Editor at HarperCollins Publishers. She is the author of two published books and numerous essays across multiple media platforms, dividing her time between Brooklyn and the Hudson River Valley.
