Most of us think there must be something God hates about us. We are lost, down by the docks where the gulls wheel overhead like kites. We cannot understand why we are punished, how we come to be trapped in our ways. Our nature is to be suspicious. There is fire in the clouds; the earth is restless. Our shadows turn and writhe behind us. But yet, a grief is assuaged: A woman passes through a crowded room, her fingers trailing mercy; an old man ascends the stairs, each step a breath of prayer; a sky of stars hovers over mother and child far out to sea; a boy answers, 'Here am I,' into the sheltering darkness. A word is accepted by one who could not forgive; the giver bows his head in gratitude. A question is asked of us. It will take our lives to answer it. Spirit breathes within the spaces between us. There are reasons to think we are wrong about the hating.