Sometimes God speaks to me. Actually, He speaks a lot, but I only listen sometimes. After a lifetime of loving God, I’m still learning to listen to His voice. Sometimes it seems loud and clear. Other times it takes a while to understand as if I was listening to Kelly explain something from another room. I can catch a few key points but have to listen with intent to get the whole message. Even then, sometimes parts need to be repeated.
I grew up and learned to drive in California’s Central Valley. With a December birthday, I turned 16—and got my drivers license—right as we were headed into the winter months.
For the most part, winters were fairly mild where I lived. I think it snowed less than 1/2″ total the entire 25 years that I lived there. But temperatures would often drop into the 20s for several days at a time, and since our winters were humid, we would often experience dense fog.
Imagine you were in a dark room with no windows or doors, with only a dim, tiny bulb for light. Feeling around, you discover that parts of the wall are solid brick, parts are thin wood paneling, and other parts are made of paper. You break through the paper to find more walls behind. You bloody your knuckles trying to break through some paneling. More walls.
I had a “vision” this morning. I use that word loosely. In reality, it was more like me imagining myself being in an action movie scene, complete with a dramatic orchestral soundtrack. 1
I was walking down a nice trail with a friend. We were talking and enjoying hanging out. The views were nice. It wasn’t a piece of cake walk, but not really strenuous either — comfortably difficult. Most importantly, it headed toward a place I wanted to go.
- This may or may not happen a lot, which may or may not be especially ridiculous since I’m 42 and overweight. ↵