Quietly Summoned

Now that my 2yo son is old enough to enjoy looking through books, oftentimes when he wakes up in the morning, I hear him over the monitor flipping through the pages of his favorite stories.  He mumbles and murmurs to himself, narrating scenes of puppies and robots and cars in the kind of gibberish that only he can understand.

I lie in bed and listen to him, smiling in response to his sweetness, until he does something which daily melts my heart.

Quietly, always so quietly, he whispers a long “Moooooom” when he’s ready to get up for the day.  He doesn’t scream, he doesn’t holler, he almost reverently says my name, sure that I will come when he calls.  How does he know I’m listening?  How does he know I’ll respond?

It washed over me this morning – a revelation about my son.  He, in his own way, understands and practices faith.  He cannot see me, he cannot hear me.  He’s not even sure where I am.  But he knows that if he quietly asks for me, I am there.

I am rarely so quiet when I call to my Father in Heaven.  Lately, in fact, it’s been more of a wail.  I know He responds either way, but sometimes I’m thrashing about so loudly in my woes, I don’t always notice His arrival.  I’m hollering for help, and too distracted to receive the assistance.

I think I’ll take a lesson from my son and gather myself before I whisper the Lord’s name.  And just like my son, I will be eagerly awaiting His reply.

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