I met three children in the street. They did not give me trick or treat but whispered, laughed, and called my name. I nearly walked away, but something made me stay and join them in their game. "Now let's pretend that we are God," they said, and ran to where I stood. They danced around me in a ring and sang, "You must agree to give us questions three, so ask us anything." They waited, sitting on the ground, and did not move or make a sound. I thought and puzzled long that day, and then, to my surprise, I looked into their eyes, and knew what I would say: "Now listen to my questions three," I said, "and you must answer me: What is your name? and Are you real? and Can you see and know how humans think and grow, and fathom how we feel?" The first child stood up tall, and suddenly I felt quite small as solemnly she said: "We never give our name away, but listen hard to what I say: God is not a she, God is not a he, God is not an it or a maybe. God is a moving, loving, knowing, growing mystery." The second child moved so fast I hardly saw her spinning past as all around she sang: "I'll dance my dance of destiny till you are all as real as me: I made you. I know you. I love you." The third child took my hand and whispered, "Yes, we understand. I know what children think and do, for I have been a child like you. I know how it feels to walk and run, to sing and shout, and play in the sun, or cry in the night, or fall to the ground, or tremble with fright, or be lost and found. I know how it feels to look at the sky and keep on asking why and why." I met three children on my way, and never knew, in all our play, their age or name or why they came, yet all the world is new, and everything I do will never be the same. God is not a she, God is not a he, God is not an it or a maybe. God is a moving, loving, knowing, growing mystery.