>> May 19, 2010
...God whispers in my ear. He knows I love imagery, He planted it in me…a gift I’ve been exploring with written words. Some call it daydreaming, but God and I know what it really is. ;)
I love to sit on my decade old WalMart swing on our unfinished covered back porch. Each morning, tucked away behind the house among the fir trees, I sit and enjoy some quiet time with God after I exercise.
Whirr-bang, whirr-bang, whirr-bang. The constant daily grinding whirr-bangs a half mile away always seem to interrupt my lovely place of solitude.
“Yes, the mill. What else do you hear?” He pushes me deeper.
“Shh,” He encourages me to focus.
“I hear a multitude of birds, happily singing on a beautiful spring day.” I’m quite proud of my observation. Birds are flying all over the place and I can hear them move about when I focus on their individual distinct songs.
The breeze picks up and the birdsong seems to crescendo, and I don’t think I imagined that. I listen and hear a bug buzzing somewhere near, but not too near…and a crow. Lovely...ugh.
I hear traffic in the distance on the highway. I listen when the garbage truck stops to pick up the trash, constantly keeping the swing moving.
“Where do you think I am?” God whispers and pulls my attention back to Him.
“What do you mean?” I wonder if this is a test. “You’re everywhere. Omnipresent.” I quietly hope I passed.
I hold my breath and I literally feel His presence. Quiet tears stream down my face and for a moment I don’t hear anything. I want to open my eyes but I don’t want to break the imagery connection I’m enjoying with my Abba. I wonder if He’s done whispering and if I’m supposed to just sit and rock with Him. More tears slip away because I don’t want this to end, it feels unfinished.
But then I hear Him again. “Let me tell you what you heard. Listen while I explain.”
Now I understand what the disciples felt when Jesus explained his parables to them.
“The mill is noisy hard work. Its sounds become so constant that you become used to it and don’t even hear it. Yet you know it is there constantly whirr-banging. Unconsciously that noise is what has set your rhythm on the swing.”
I notice the back and forth movement matches the whirr-banging.
“At first you only heard one bird. She sang a beautiful melody and drew the other birds into her chorus. She invited them to sing and play and they responded. Even bugs buzzed along with her. I’m glad you noticed the traffic without my prodding. The people that pass by notice My house of worship, but they don’t notice the parsonage tucked away and certainly don’t see the porch. But the garbage truck driver notices things around the property…like excess junk being thrown out.”
“I think I see some analogies here,” I try to process.
“Shh, don’t interrupt me.”
I seriously heard Him say that.
A breeze sweeps over me. I smell the woodsy fragrance as it blows through the trees around me. The fresh streams of tears are dried and I feel a cool trace…a fingertip’s touch…in their place.
Whirr-bang, whirr-bang, whirr-bang…