Listen to Him

Last week, I learned some things that shook me out of the relative contentment I've been living in at work.  I found out that I'm going to be experiencing some major unforeseen change in my professional life in the months to come.  I'm sad, and scared, and excited, and, like the woman on the BART train said, I'm trusting God.

So I was thinking about the things God has done in my life to get me ready for this change, and the ways he's taken care of me and my family, and I realized I hadn't really heard from him in a while. I'd been rushing around busily, not tuning in.  I decided to sit down and read some psalms before bed, to remember his promises, to let him comfort me.

I flipped around through the ending psalms, reading my old highlightings, wondering where that one was about dwelling in the shelter of the most high, about angels lifting you up lest you dash your foot upon a stone.  I couldn't believe I had forgotten a reference I knew so well, as if the information had been simply wiped from my brain.  There was a three in it, wasn't there? I turned to the 130s, then the 30s.

Then, quite clearly, I heard:  It's 91.

Oh. Yeah.  Thanks.

And hi.  By the way.


Today I was in a frantic mood as I tried to herd the children to school.  When Liv plopped down between my legs so I could help her get her boots on, she said, "Mom, you need to follow Jesus."

I stopped breathing.  When I started again, I said, "How do I do that?"

"Listen to him," she said.