Awhile back, I was trying to remember someone’s name, or should I say the daughter of someone. My friend, Doris, has a daughter who is woken up each day by the voice of the Spirit. He will say her name gently, and ask her to wake up and then He will say “This is what I want you to do today…” At least that is what I’m told. Okay, okay, it sounds delusional, I know. But if you really want to go there, that makes me delusional- and you might as well throw in Moses, Elijah, Daniel, and the apostles, Peter, John, and Paul just for fun. But anyway, that’s not the story I’m telling.
So, I couldn’t remember the name of my friend’s delusional, er, spiritual daughter, and it was bugging me a lot. I was so impressed with the story of her leadings that I wanted to write it down, but I couldn’t think of her name. I pondered it all day, and it was on the tip of my tongue- Lolita, no, Laverne, Lucinda, Lavidia, no, no, no. It was driving me insane. I finally stopped thinking about it and went to work that evening. At Hallmark.
That night, as I was bored to tears with no customers, a woman and a little girl came in. The woman went off to look at musical cards and painted wine glasses and polka-dotted key chains. Her daughter came over to the counter to play around. I can’t remember what she was wearing. I only remember the sweetness of her little face with freckles across her nose, and the soft wispiness of her brown hair, and the way her voice jingled, and most of all her playfulness.
First she took the beanie toys and lined them up by categories on the counter, and pretended the birds were jumping upon the row of bears. Then she set them all neatly back into their bins with her small dimply hands. Then she took out all of the foil-wrapped balls of candy and sorted them out by colors on the counter. Then she took the stuffed bunnies and lambs from the shelves and pretended they were talking to each other. After she played with each item, she politely put them away. She skipped around the carpet and did a few dainty little twirls.
About this time, seismic waves were starting to reverberate through the dry crust of my exasperated soul. Her joy was so contagious that within a matter of minutes, living water began to spout its little undercurrents through my bedrock. I was thinking that I was beginning to understand what Christ meant that we must be as little children to enter the Kingdom of God.
I must admit I was irritated when her mother finished shopping and brought her merchandise to the counter. As I scanned the stationary and wall plaques and photo albums, I wondered if her mother knew what a prize God had given her. I placed everything into the purple bag and passed it to the woman and leaned over the counter. I asked the little girl “What is your name?”
“Lydia,” she replied with a voice that skipped down the sidewalk of my mind into the sunlight.
That was the name I had been struggling to remember. God had reminded me of it in such a way that I could never forget it again. He sent me a delightful little messenger to play with me because I am His child. Just for fun.
~♥~
I just love stories like that! Thanks for sharing! 🙂
You are most welcome…thanks for stopping by!
Delusional? I think not. As a child my Catholic parents were scared and taught me to fear the voice of Spirit. Thankfully as an adult I’ve un-learned that teaching. When my young daughter would tell me her stories about hearing something I always listened, and taught her to do the same. When she was 5 shortly after my sister passed away at a very young 46, my then 5 year old said as we were returning from a walk in the woods, “Mama, I can hear Auntie L in the wind.” Thanks for sharing this lovely story Olive. Kids are so connected we have much to learn from them.
*anna
Thank you so much for your note. It is sad that in our culture, so many spiritual experiences are considered to be forms of madness.
An amazing article, thank you! The mysteries of God are beyond our knowing or telling. He speaks to us in astounding ways. Only when we rely too much on our own understanding do we seem apt to miss His still small voice. A scripture given to me as a young girl often comes to mind whenever I am listening to my own voice more than God’s, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and don’t rely on your own understanding…” Proverbs 3:5
It always amazes me when Our Father performs His “magic” in such loving ways.Thank you so much for your note and for always stopping by. Peace be with you.
“‘Lydia,’ she replied with a voice that skipped down the sidewalk of my mind into the sunlight.”
That is a wonderful line! I love that. I’m grinning from ear to ear!
Glad you enjoyed that metaphor! Thanks for your encouragement.
Peace be with you, Olive.