My typing fingers have a weird quirk: often when I try to type the word "good" it comes out "god."  I’ll look at the screen and realize my "good job" is actually "god job" or my "good day" is "god day." As I backtrack to fix the typo, the mistake seems like a Freudian slip. I realize that "god" (or more correctly, "God") is in a way what I meant. I want to do a "good job" but deep down I also want to do a "God job." I want to do what God has intended for me to do. And when I wish someone a "good day," part of what I am saying is that I want them to have a "God day," one that is God-filled and God-directed.

Sometimes I think our bodies know things that our minds don’t. Or maybe it’s the sub-conscious part of our minds asserting itself. It could even be God whispering in our ears at a level just below conscious hearing. Whatever it is, sometimes wisdom I don’t realize I have manifests itself and I think, “Did I know that? How did I know that?”

It’s a simple thought, but a good reminder. (Or a God reminder.) It reminds me that deep down, under the intellect, in some pre-reason place, I understand that good equals God. I know that all good things are from God and that there can be no good without God. I know that good and God are inseparable.