In a famous Hasidic saying, the Kotzker Rebbe was once asked: “Where does God dwell?” to which he replied, “Wherever you let God in.” This past month I have wondered a lot about the places where people let God into their lives, and the places where they keep God out. I’ve thought a lot about a conversation I had with eleven-year-old Alex when his father was still lying in a coma in the hospital after a massive heart attack left him with little chance of recovery. Alex looked up at me through tear-filled eyes and had a message for God: “It sucks! And it isn’t fair.”

He was referring to the home-made cookies in the middle of the table in front of us, the endless bowls of soup that well-meaning friends had been dropping off at their doorstep all week along with all the pot roasts and briskets that had piled up in the refrigerator.

“He chose ‘A,’” Alex told me with a resigned sigh. “He told us what he wanted to happen.” When I turned to him with a puzzled expression on my face, he explained in a calm, even voice how his father had circled “A” when given a number of choices on a “Durable Power of Attorney” form that let his family know what he wanted done to his body in the event he was unable to talk or make a decision himself.

Each of us should do the same. Have a conversation with your loved ones about your own mortality and the choices you want made for you should the time ever come when you can’t make them yourself. It was the precious gift of peace of mind for Alex and his mother, and I urge every one of us to give that gift to our loved ones this month, no matter how young or healthy we might be.

“Where does God dwell?” “Wherever and whenever you let God in.”