“Marco!” called one of the boys in the pool, eyes closed, searching.
“Polo!” one of the other boys, eyes open, evading.
Calling to find their friend in a game. So summertime, so blue skies and so filled with smiles.
“Mom,” a scared teen calls out. He’d been watching a scary movie. “Was that you?” he asks. “Scratching on the window?”
“At Mid-Night? In the dark? Outside?” I ask incredulous, yet sucking in oxygen from sneaking outside, scratching on the window and running back in, jumping into bed. “You gotta be kidding.”
“Mom! Seriously. Was that you?” he persists, seeking me for truth.
“Yes,” I said, laughing – well, laughing for the next 2 weeks.
“Mom,” one of the boys calls, waiting for me to answer, so they know where I am, where to find me.
“I’m here,” I answer, knowing that where I am isn’t really important – it is just being with me they are looking for. They’ll follow my answering voice and wind their way to me.
Searching me out, just wanting to be where I am.
Calling out in order to be with. . . maybe for comfort, maybe for an answer, maybe for encouragement, maybe for a need, maybe just to be . . . with.
“God?” I call out, and I listen to locate to just be. . . with.
“I’m here,” He answers, and I follow into His presence.
I need to call my Father like that, like my boys call to me. Not because I want something. Just because I want to find Him, know He is there or just be with Him.
He tells me: “Call to me and I will answer you” (Jeremiah 33: 3a).
Like the days I would call to my grandmother from inside the house. “I’m here,” she would call back. I would follow her voice, to fold myself into the porch swing beside her and we would sit, just be, watching the traffic on Main Street, USA, admiring the Magnolia blossoms, talking about a pinch of this, a heap of that. Sometimes, a story slipped out, a piece of history, something special I didn’t know.
Being with God is like that, but more.
Just the two of us, me not needing anything in particular. Just sitting, listening, talking back and forth – Him more talking, me more listening – or maybe I should say, me trying not to talk as much, learning to listen more.
“I’ll tell you marvelous and wondrous things that you could never figure out on your own” (Jeremiah 33:3).
I have been missing out, doing all the talking, asking, crying, wobbling. He has things to tell me, if only I would quiet my mind, close my mouth and open my ears – marvelous and wondrous things to tell me. Things I can’t figure out on my own.
I think I am ready for that kind of relationship – the just “being” part of a relationship, the ear of the relationship.
I like the sound of that.
I want to send a special thanks to my friend Kerry at A Lamp, a Light and a Writer, who posted a Facebook note about learning to be a good listener. You know you’ve only been listening to God with half an ear when you start hearing a message from many different places, turning it into a chorus you just cannot turn off – Kerry was a voice in that chorus encouraging me to become a better listener. Her message wasn’t directed at me – but God spoke to me in that message. Like I told Kerry, I think I am moving out of The Year of Refreshing into The Year of Listening. Stop by and visit her blog. You’ll be blessed.