God Speaks in a Familiar Voice

Sunday was a heck of a day. Not sure what his deal was, but Michael was in rare form, breaking previous records of impishness-per-minute.

I was very much looking forward to my favorite part of the day, the time when I can tuck Michael in bed and basically be done with him.

Bedtime rolled around at last, and after tooth brushing and goodnight kisses, Michael made a plaintive request that his mother join us for story and prayer time. She acquiesced and rose from the comfy couch to make the trek upstairs to Michael’s room.

During these infrequent and thus highly sought-after visits, mommy’s job is to snuggle up to Michael and be a partner in his play while he “listens” to a story.

We read the story about Stone Soup. Not necessarily one of his favorites, but I like it and it gives me a chance to practice different voices. Michael played with his mom’s arm, raising and lowering it and allowing her hand to smack him in the face. He knows it annoys me that he doesn’t really listen to story time.

So I stopped reading.

“Michael, should we just be done with this? You’re not listening.”

“I am listening! Keep reading!”

“I don’t know… you’re playing and giggling and I don’t feel like you’re enjoying the story,” I said.

“No! Please don’t quit. I’ll be good,” he pleads.

I continue reading, pushing through the words quickly, hoping to reach the end before his mischievous antics reach the boil-over point.

Finally done, I put the book down and turn off the light.

“Okay, sport. Let’s get you tucked in here so I can say prayers.”

He snuggles up next to his mom, who is only too happy to remain horizontal at this point, after a grueling day of yard work under a hot sun.

Before I can begin saying prayers, though, I heave a sigh, shaking my head at Michael’s phenomenally difficult behavior during the day.

“Lord, please let this boy learn how to behave.”

In almost no time, I hear that still, small voice respond:

“He is learning. He learns every day. You teach him.”

I’m taken aback, because this isn’t what I want to hear. I want God to fix him, not chide me.

“But Lord, why must he behave this way?”

“He is who he is, and exactly who I made him to be.”

“Then please give me the patience I need to deal with him!”

“I am teaching you patience by providing you the lessons.”

“What, are you in cahoots with my wife or something? Why are you saying the same things she says?”

I hear no comment back from this, but my wife is giggling audibly now, having heard only my side of the conversation but no doubt knowing exactly what God must be saying to me.

“Is God not saying what you want to hear?” she asks me, finally.

“No! And He’s speaking with your voice.”

She reaches her palm straight up and says to the Almighty: “High five.”