Sunday, February 4, 2001
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Sunday, February 4, 2001 |
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Listen to The Voice By MARY JANE HOLT
For 15 years you've been hearing about the voice. At first it was hard to talk about it. Having come from a nursing background, and knowing what happens to people who claim to hear voices, I felt it was in my best interest to keep quiet about the voice. Only once have I ever heard an audible voice when there was no human form to go with it and that was just last year. Trust me, that was most uncommon. But The Voice has become quite common. I suppose I feel more freedom now to talk about it partially because I wonder (even have suspicions) about the voice being accessible to all. Perhaps it is just a matter of listening. So, let's get on with the role the voice played in my activities Thursday, Jan. 18. I had been in Savannah all week with my sister, who is quite ill. On my way back home I arrived in Macon with a need to find a convenient tinkle room, as in Hardees, Burger King or one of the many convenience stores that seem to be on more and more corners. Just about the time I decided I could not possibly last another hour until I arrived at home, I glanced off to my left and saw a billboard advertising a Steak and Shake. Next exit. Turn Left. Then Left. The little voice said go there. No way, I said, you know I don't do lefts when I'm in a hurry and certainly not in 5 o'clock traffic. But the voice was firm. I got off at that exit and immediately saw three very convenient "pit stops" to my right, where it would be so easy to get back on I-75. Again I argued. Silently. I never (almost never) talk back aloud to the voice. Nevertheless, I turned left and drove to the Steak and Shake. When I parked my car I sat there for a moment feeling a bit embarrassed about going into the restaurant just to tinkle. I was not hungry or thirsty. I went in and waited a few seconds to be seated. Several employees made eye contact with me but did not walk over to show me to a table. I made my decision and made a bee line to the back corner and into the restroom. Momentarily, I was ready to dart back across the restaurant and make my exit. When I opened the bathroom door, I saw it. There perched on top of the pay phone in the corner of the little alcove sat a purse. No one was near. I picked up the bag which was open and glanced inside. It had a HUGE roll of bills, as in money. I saw one credit card and other papers. What should I do? Go through it for identification and try to contact the person or give it to the store manager? I spoke to the manager who just took the purse from me and said he'd put it in the safe. I protested. Don't you want to look for an I.D. and try to contact the owner? No, I'll just put it in the safe. That may be store policy, but I didn't like it. I regretted handing it over. I exited the store. As soon as I was in the car I used my cell phone to dial 911. I told the police about the purse and all the money that was in it, and asked them to follow up. After all, my little voice had sent me to that particular restroom, inside a most inconvenient restaurant, for a reason. I didn't want to blow my assignment. Yet, how many times a day do we all blow such assignments? What would happen if we all tuned into and obeyed the voice. What voice? Actually, I've done more wondering about the origin of the voice than you can imagine. Angel whispers? Intuition? God? Thought waves that pass through or over us as they are beamed out from some unknown source, like light or a prayer. So, I was doing a bit of wondering again as I drove out of Macon and headed on home. Suddenly, a passage of scripture hit me like a bucket of cold water. It is found in John 10:24-30. It blew me away! Hundred of times I have read that passage and I always gave it some other, far more lofty, meaning. I never realized it could apply to such mundane life functions as choosing the right place to tinkle.
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