A whisper woke me. It was accompanied by a chubby index finger traveling the freeways of my face. Left cheek bone, merge to rutted mouth freeway, head north, east across laugh lines, hang a sharp south down nose. Repeat. And the words press themselves into my subconscious, "You are so bootyful mommy. Willy willy bootyful. Adordibble. Sigh. (The finger is out of gas for a minute) But you going to get stressed today. Willy stressed. But she's so bootyful." Sigh. (Finger resumes).
It always amazes me when God speaks to me through my children. Especially, when he speaks through the naughty ones, the stress inducers. The ones who etched the freeways on my face.
But I hear. And the laundry and school work and instruments and bookwork and health care and democracy fall into perspective and I smile. Because I'm bootyful and willy willy loved.
"After the earthquake came a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper............" (I Kings 19:12)