What does he sound like?

It was late. And I’d already tucked in my son.

And re-tucked him in after he got up the first time.
And I should have already been in bed myself.
But school was canceled again so I was sitting on the couch checking facebook, watching late night TV, reading blogs and wasting time.

And he called for me.
And so I shut down the computer and crawled into his bed.
I let his buzzed hair tickle my chin while I kissed the top of his head and asked what was wrong.
And he said that he was scared.
And that he didn’t have anyone.
And that I got to sleep with dad every night and couldn’t I just sleep with him for a little while. And I told him that Tess was right next door and that we were just down the hall and that maybe the dog could sleep with him.

And of course that he was never really alone.
And that when he gets scared he could pray.
And since he is only five and prayer has always been a bit elusive to me.
I asked him if he knew what that meant to pray.
I mean we do it sometimes at night and usually before dinner and at church.
But I wasn’t sure he really knew what it means. to pray.
Sometimes I am not even sure I do.

And he was quiet.
I thought maybe he was already asleep but I kept talking anyways.
I told him that it was just talking to God.
And that he could do it whenever he wanted and say whatever he wanted.
That there weren’t any special rules or topics or things to memorize.
Just talking. Like to a friend.
When he is scared or sad or thankful.
And I felt like my description was a little flat but gave myself credit for trying.
And I kissed his head again and got ready to sneak out of his room. Because he was still silent and breathing deeper and I thought surely he was asleep.
When ever so quietly he asked the question that plenty of grown ups are too chicken to ask.

“But he never talks to me” he whispered.

Yes he does. He just rarely uses words.

“But what does he sound like?”

Oh sweet boy. It is sometimes so hard to tell. But mostly we just have to listen. And less with our ears and more with our hearts.
Because He talks all the time.

He whispers in the wind.
A nagging feeling that won't go away.
He Fills in the quiet if we leave any for him.
In laughter.
With extra scoops of ice cream.
In books.
In other people.
In hugs.

And just then he wrapped his two little sleepy arms around me and squeezed tight.
And I said.
See. Just then.
I heard him loud and clear.

9 comments:

Dawn said...

Wow. I have tears in my eyes. You know a little more about it than you thought.

samskat said...

Awesome, not at all flat, and I'm a little teary eyed too.

Sarah said...

Thanks for stopping by my blog earlier. I love this, not only for it's sweetness and truth-spoke-clear, but because you opened to your son's wakefulness and his heart where it was at, and loved him there. Courage indeed!

Margie said...

Okay - can I tell you I just got tears in my eyes? Honestly, Michelle. This is incredible!

spaghettipie said...

That sweet Owen. Precious to capture this, and loved your response. Loved it.

Ann Kroeker said...

Mmmm....

This is perfect.

(I just heard Him, too...through you...loud and clear)

Dena Dyer said...

This is so, so sweet. :) Thanks for sharing it!

Alyssa said...

This hits the spot in so many ways.

David Rupert said...

A wonderful story about a child's faith -- so simple and pure