To Meng.

I am God's child . . . I am God's child.

My piano student Meng, age 11, recited these words yesterday, touching her thumbs to each fingertip with every word. She was frustrated. We've been working on Carol of the Bells lately and there's one passage that's been especially tricky for her. After her fourth or fifth botched attempt, she had to stop and use this technique to try and calm herself down. I'd never seen her do it before.

To distract her, I asked her about Seraphim, the class of angels she's "obsessed with." She had told me about them the week before, in our last lesson. They're at the top-tier of angels, apparently. Do you think they can be our Guardian Angels? She'd asked me. I don't see why not. Was my reply.

When I brought the subject back up yesterday as she was tapping her fingers, I could see her frustration flicker and then disappear entirely. I told her what I'd read about Seraphim over the last week, about how they have three pairs of wings, one on their backs to fly with, one on their feet for I forget what purpose, and one covering their face, representing their humility before God. About how their main distinguishing feature is their intense, all-encompassing love for the Almighty, and that apparently makes them the most powerful among all the types of angels. I thought that was interesting. That their power comes from their ability to love.

When Meng was conversing with me about God and her favorite angels, she turned into a different kid than the one who only moments before had been ready to bang her head against the piano. She became happy and relaxed. At a carefully chosen moment, I suggested she have another go at that Carol of the Bells run. She nailed it.

My own relationship with faith has evolved. I used to think I didn't need it. I wore the label "spiritual but not religious" with pride. I have a few close religious friends, but I always held religious faith at arm's length as a curiosity that, I admit, made me slightly uncomfortable. I now notice myself reacting differently when I encounter people who are deeply religious. I like seeing the peace that it brings them, like it brought Meng. I think I used to view faith as some kind of shortcut. Now I know, properly practiced, how much it can deepen a person and enrich a life.

These days I feel a deepening need for something although I don't quite know what. For God, I suppose. It's strange - a part of me doesn't want to admit that. That word is so loaded. My life is wonderful in many ways, but in another way I'm tired - tired of thinking I can figure it out all on my own. So that's where I'm at.

I can't do it alone. Now what?