Voices I Hear by Andrea Howard Hawthorn
The voice of self beckons:
Get out there and do something important and worthwhile.
The voice of my blond-haired daughter invites me:
Mommy, let’s play house. I’ll be the Mommy, you be the Daddy.
The voice of self lures me:
Stand up! Be counted among the useful and make the world a better place.
The voice of my infant son cries from his crib:
I pick him up and we rock together in the silence and stillness.
The voice of self bids me:
Work hard and seek the praise and applause of many.
The voice of my grown-up four-year-old daughter announces proudly:
Mommy, I colored this picture of Pooh for you.
The voice of self tempts me:
Make sure your talent is noticed and appreciated and bask in the spotlight.
Three small voices plead:
Mommy, we’re thirsty, will you get us a drink of water?
The voice of self cries out as I wipe a little nose for the twentieth time:
Lord, isn’t there a more glamorous job for me than this?
The voice of my Lord assures me:
“If anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones … I tell you the truth, she will certainly not lose her reward.—For the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to these little children.”
Leave a Reply