Voice

The little girl objects to it.

She asks what EXACTLY do I mean by it.  This word, “hmmmm”  that I evidently use far too often.

“Does it mean yes or no?” she demands.

“Hmmm,” I begin, “because I honestly don’t know.”  At age seven, there is no ambiguity.  There is black and there is white, there is yes and there is no.  I envy her that.

A little girl born with a hole in her palate who has struggled now through two languages knows exactly what she means all the time.  She may struggle with articulation.  She never struggles with expression.

She uses words like art.   I need to learn her magic.  I need to take the wand of words and paint beauty.  I need to learn the stroke of spreading Jesus on this canvas of life.

Paul tells us our tongue drives us, like the helm of a ship.  The tongue has the power of life and death. Yet we wield too many words, or in my case at least with my daughter, too few.

Daily we open dozens of conversations to build up or to tear down.  What shall we choose? Like the ship, a storm can cause the tongue to go adrift with children, spouses even strangers.  We curse the darkness of life and in so doing shut out light.

We can receive a thousand compliments yet hold sacred the one critic.  We can see Jesus all around us yet turn our ears to the voice of the Liar.

I have done it more times than I can count.

We applaud every step a baby takes, yet condemn every misstep of the teen.

We adore the fiancé yet critique the spouse. We praise a Jesus that answers yes yet frustrate with a Father who allows pain.

How do we turn this inside out?  How do we get a glimpse of the bigger plan, the more Holy Ground? My daughter whispers she wants to hear my voice.  Perhaps that is it in a nutshell,  simply listening for His.

Perhaps by turning my ear more towards Him, my words will begin to speak grace.  He never tired of the extending of compassion, why do I?  Schedule perhaps, priorities unfortunately,  pride indeed.

To truly grasp grace, we must listen with gratitude and see with the heart of surrender.