“Are you listening?” she called casually from across the room, sipping her coffee at her desk.
“Huh?” he asked distracted from behind his laptop sports page, book bag unzipped on the floor next to his worn-in high tops.
“Are you list-en-ing?” she repeated, more seriously this time.
“Uh —sure, yeah,” he mumbled hoping to satisfy her, glancing up briefly, nodding and continuing to read.
Sunlight shone through waving branches outside the large window in front of him, throwing leaf shadow waltzes across the wall behind him. Holding her mug in both hands, she watched the shadows dance wondering how to reach him. With one last swallow, the edge of her mouth curled.
Joining him gingerly on the oversized corduroy sofa, she inconspicuously reached over the back of his neck. Above the tag of his varsity jersey she began turning her hand at the wrist as if she were trying to tune in a radio station.
“It’s right here,” she said quietly, continuing to turn her hand back and forth.
“What are you doing?” he asked, shrugging her off his shoulders. “It’s not funny, Mom. I’m trying to read,” he grumbled. “This is important.”
“There’s something more important,” she whispered patiently, and persistently.
“Come on,” he complained, trying to focus.
“See this knob back here,” she explained gently, “This is your tuner.” He continued scrolling slowly down the page with intense interest. “And this one here,” she continued, moving her hand forward to continue turning it above his ear, “is your volume,” she said with a smile.
“Yes-! They smoked ‘em!” he shouted scrunching his face in satisfaction with a brief fist in the air. “When’s dinner?” he asked her.
“Those loud stations you like may be easy to find,” she continued in a near whisper, “but they only distract you from the most important one.”
“Mom,” he said logically, and pausing with an edge of impatience looking sideways at her, “Where do you get these crazy ideas?” He shook his head, hiding a grin.
“There’s static on either side, but every time you find it,” she clarified softly, “it’s easier the next time.”
“Yeah,” he joked, glancing over at her with a smirk. “-And where’s my antenna?” he challenged her.
“Your antenna is your –mind,” she answered immediately and to his surprise, her gentle words welling to a climax. They broke out in laughter, easing his resistance.
“Oh, come on, Mom!” he kidded with linearity churning in his head. He sat up straight making boxy shoulders with his hands on his hips, tucked his chin and with a frown assumed a mechanical expression. ”Hi, I’m Mike,” he smirked sarcastically in a deep voice looking sideways toward her, “the walking transmitter…”
1 Kings 19:12
After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.
Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, “This is the way; walk in it.”
My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me.
do not harden your hearts
as you did in the rebellion,
during the time of testing in the wilderness,