He Who Talks To God

“What do you see?”

The child stood before his mother, eyes wide and staring as if through her. His small body trembled.  It was just past midnight, and he’d risen from his bed in a panic, disoriented by the darkness.

“God” he answered, breathlessly, the urgency in him rising.

“What does he look like?”

“I can’t see him.  His light is too bright.  But he’s holding up a giant orb.”

Chills ran down the mother’s spine.  An orb? Not the language of a nine-year-old boy.

“What does it mean?”

“He’s showing me weather, like storms and floods, and fire, and stuff.”

“Why do you think He’s showing you this?”  

“It’s a message,” the boy’s face, so angelic in this dim light, made his mother’s heart ache.  What was happening to her son?

“God wants us to know that hard times are coming, and that we will have to learn to live together differently.  He wants us to get along, take care of one another.”

“That is a good message.”

The boy relaxed then, his body surrendering to her arms.  She rocked him gently, wondering what to say.

“Are you afraid?” she asked after a pause.

“No, Mom,” he replied matter-of-factly.  “There are angels here too.”

“There are?”

“Yes.  They came first, to tell me God was coming.”

She guided his slender body back to bed, sitting on the edge and stroking his hair as he fell back into a deep sleep.

“Do other people see God?” he asked her the next morning.

“There have been others, yes,” she answered hesitantly.  They’d stopped going to church years before.  

“Really?  How do you know?”

“It’s written down.”

“In a book?”

“Yes.  It’s called the Bible.”

She kept him home from school that day, sensing his need to be close to her.  Later, they ventured to the mall where a man sold scrolls with the meaning of names.  

“Maybe he has my name!”  

“No, son.  I made your name up.  You won’t find it there.”

But the boy persisted, asking the man if he had any information about his name.

“I do!” came the reply.  “Your name has two meanings, depending on the Greek or Hebrew translation.  It means He who talks to God or He who listens to God.

The boy beamed, while the mother felt a deep sense of inadequacy settle around her.

(Written for Willow Poetry’s challenge:  What do you see?  Image provided by Hélène Valliant.)

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Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

16 thoughts on “He Who Talks To God

  1. This is really powerful, VJ. I’m reading this after watching the video by Chris Hedges on American Psychosis. I truly believe the ones who are now children are going to be severely challenged by our world … but that they will rise to that challenge in ways prior generations could not … perhaps the difference is the younger ones’ willingness to see and listen to God (God in the expansive sense, appearing differently to each of us, yet spanning all of us whether we acknowledge such or not). An evocative image! And I love what you received (and shared).

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Thanks Jazz. I agree with you about the children – they have not yet been corrupted. The boy in the story is actually my son – he is now in his 30’s but I vividly remember the scene, and have thought of it over and over again with all the storms and fires of the recent years. He was right – we need to a new way of getting along.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. An amazing story of great blessings. Children as so close to God until they lose their innocence. It is precious to listen to them, tell such stories, as they do every other thing in their life. For them it is normal. Adults who retain this vision and presence are also blessed. Thank you for this insightful post, V.J.

    Liked by 1 person

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