In His Glorious Face

Once upon a time I was a little girl.
Very little.
Five.
It was a Sunday night.
We were at Church.
That's were it usually happens.
At Church.
Even at a young age.

I don't remember much.
The sermon, the people, the songs.
All I remember is when we went to pray...
To talk, I knew, with God.
Every head bowed to pray.
Like always.
It's just what you do.
But I didn't.
Not that night.

I paused.
I thought for a bit.
I turned my head up towards the ceiling, my eyes opened wide and searching.
My mother looked over and said a hasty "bow your head".
I obeyed.
But still I thought...at five I puzzled...

Why do we look down?
Why do we close our eyes?
When I'm talking to God I want to look up, into his face.
I want to see if He's looking and listening back.
How can you talk to someone if you don't look them in the eye?
Does He like that when we turn our face away and close our eyes and murmur?

The prayer ended.
But still I thought.
Why don't we let God see our face?
Are we afraid?