His Voice

When I was High School God and I would talk frequently.  About school, about my family, about my friends, about my enemies, about my poetry and my art, about dirty dishes that filled up the sink in a matter of seconds, about the boys that I had noticed but who never noticed me, about the things I enjoyed doing and the things I loathed, about the open sea and sailing boats.  Only on the occasional boring day did we discuss the weather.  

Some days I would be doing so many things that God and I would have very little time to talk.   I remember Him telling me, “Slow down, my Gabrielle, slow down.”  Some days I would listen and some days I would cry off, “Not yet, Lord; I still have so much left to do.”  He would persist and warn me, “Slow down, my Gabrielle, you’re doing too much.  You need to remember that You need me still.”  And I would say, “Not yet, Lord; I’m getting so much done!”  

And then God would lose His patience and say, “Now STOP this foolishness!” thus proving that there is a difference between hearing and listening.  And I would fall off my bike and up in a wheelchair for a few weeks.  Or I would get strep and tonsillitis and end up in bed for a few days.  Or I would get stuck in a hurricane and be unable to leave my room.  I would be stuck and couldn’t do anything but “stop.”  And then God and I would talk.  

It was all very simple as we would discuss everything in my life- but not the weather.  And after a few weeks God would let me know I had suffered enough and I would get better… or else I’d have a relapse.  And yet even to this day when I think back to those warnings I remember that through the ominous thunder or the echoing silence I would hear the distinct sound of God’s presence in my weakness- proof that He had not abandoned me even though He had helped me find my way back.  I would hear His laughter.