Daylight lingers at 9 pm, and I know I am back in Scotland.
I was, indeed, delayed, but by the grace of God I arrived in Aberdeen Thursday
morning: British Airways computers crashed Thursday afternoon and thousands
more were stranded on planes, in concourses, without luggage, without
alternatives.
I’ve now heard my first cuckoo of spring. Yes, I know they
are nasty birds, but I love their distinctive call. Maybe because it is so
distinctive. Despite my efforts at identifying the songs of other birds, I lag
behind. But the cuckoo I can identify.
I call up the stairs to Don. A simple request, uttered four
times, increasingly louder, and slower. I hear his footsteps coming to the
banister. ‘Pardon?’
Those who have ears to hear, let them hear.
I am down to tell the junior church about the still small
voice of God. So I’ve been thinking a lot about his voice. There are no hearing
aids for that small voice, digital or otherwise. I could be profoundly deaf and
still hear his still, small voice.
Perhaps I would hear it better, as all the distractions
would be silenced.
Sharpen my inner ear today, Lord, that I may hear your sweet
words of encouragement, correction, and guidance. Thank you that even though my
spiritual hearing is often dull, yet you persevere speaking without any
inflection of impatience or irritation.
May I show the same grace to others whose physical hearing
might be waning. And may I clearly hear and obey today and every day.
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