The Warmth of God
By Olga D’Andrea
I’ve had moments of wonder with fall at hand —
as the days grow shorter and the nights breathe a cooler air,
I’ve often asked myself if we were originally designed
to withstand the elements.
The other creatures adapt to the cold with nature’s quiet wisdom.
They burrow, they migrate, they grow thicker coats —
all in perfect rhythm with creation’s turning.
There is something sacred in their instinct,
a kind of memory that tells them, You will be cared for.
Natures protection. God’s hand.
And if I had to imagine it, I would say yes —
God made the first humans to withstand the changing elements too.
Not only through flesh and form,
but through a warmth that came from the Source itself —
a divine heat that required no fire.
It was not the body that held it,
but the spirit that received it.
A warmth not born of the sun,
but of awareness.
A knowing of where the true flame begins.
If we could find that exact source —
the place where God first breathed light into being —
perhaps we would remember that warmth again.
It might not be something we create,
but something we allow.
A consciousness shift,
a gentle remembrance that it exists even now.
In the beginning, did Adam and Eve even know what cold was?
Did they sense heat as real as the sun and moon?
When the sun set and shadows gathered,
did the air ever chill their skin?
I would imagine under God’s care,
they always kept warm —
not from what burned around them,
but from what burned within them.
A divine equilibrium that kept body, mind, and soul
aligned with His peace.
And perhaps that is what we’ve lost —
not His warmth, but the awareness of it.
We still live beneath the same sun,
breathe the same air,
walk the same earth.
Yet something in us has grown distant from its original design.
We light fires and cover ourselves in layers,
and still we search for comfort —
a comfort that was once as close as breath.
Could it be that we’ve merely fallen asleep?
That the chill we feel is not from the world around us,
but from the forgetting of the warmth within us —
the warmth that was never meant to fade?
Maybe fall, in its quiet turning, is God’s reminder.
The whisper through the rustling leaves:
Wake up, child. The warmth was never gone.
It has been in you all along.
