This morning the sky is full of clouds. Fast moving clouds. Laden with rain destined for somewhere else. My wife walks our dog at this time each Thursday. Unless the rain is upon us.
Our dog defers to rain. Our dog gets to the end of the path and then brings them both straight back when it rains. Our dog doesn’t like water. Not even puddles.
She is deaf.
Our dog is deaf. Our dog is deaf. Our dog who is deaf doesn’t like water. Not even puddles. Our dog can’t hear movement. Not movement -> to her. Not like rain drops -> to her. Not like sloshing water in puddles -> to her. Our dog cannot hear water -> to her. Our dog cannot hear movement -> to her.
You can hear movement.
I can hear rain. Not the sound of water but the dropping of water. A pat. A tap. A slap. I can hear an intensity of rain dropping. The speed and intensity of rain dropping. On my umbrella. On the hood of my waterproof. In the puddles. On the roofs. On the trees. On the road. I can hear movement -> to me.
And >- from you.
I can hear movement. I am surrounded by the sound of > < – > < movement. I can shut my eyes and still know movement > < – > < to me and from me and of me.
Cars. Planes. Engines. Bikes. Footsteps. Doors opening and shutting. Other dogs barking. Other people talking.
Can you hear > < – > < me?
Is that really “all” I desire?
All that He desires for me?
For if that is all – where then the
> < – > <
Of our living?
© Henry Martin.
Free use for ministry purposes.
Not to be used for publication or profit.