A Honk And A Whisper

HONK!  HONK!  HONK!  HONK!  HONK!  HONK!  HONK!

It was 2AM and I was sleeping like a dead man.  Debbie was out of town and, as is my habit, I had positioned myself in a sprawl to take up as much of our king-size bed as possible.  I believe in streeeetching out and enjoying myself when the whole thing is mine.   Last Sunday night was no exception.

HONK!  HONK!  HONK!  HONK!  HONK!  HONK!  HONK!

I barely heard it in the deepest levels of my sleep.  It incorporated itself into the dream I was living in.  I can’t remember the dream anymore.  But the HONK was there.  I fought my way up a level of sleep.  And then two levels.

HONK!  HONK!  HONK!  HONK!  HONK!  HONK!

I recall blinking my eyes rapidly, trying to figure out where I was … who I was … and why it sounded like a submarine was blaring its warning signal that it was about to submerge in my bedroom.  The feel of the soft feather-filled comforter brought me back to reality.  I sat up, looking around.  Still unable to process that incessant…

HONK!  HONK!  HONK!  HONK!  HONK!  HONK!  HONK!

Then I knew.  Emma the Mustang.  She was alone in the garage tonight.  Maury the Maroon Trail Blazer was away with Debbie.  Why would Emma’s alarm be going off in my own garage unless … I pulled a Superman, jumped out of bed “in a single bound” and sprinted to the garage.  Emma was all alone, her head lights flashing and horn roaring.  I went back to my bedroom to get my keys off the dresser.  No keys.  Just a lonely wallet.  I ran to the dining room.  Not on the table.  The kitchen.  Same result.  Back to the bedroom.  Not on the floor.  Also not under the bed, in the tub, in my “man-cave,” and not in the refrigerator.  (Yes, I looked.)  The horn was still doing what horns do best.  The keys were doing what keys do best.  Hiding.  They must be …..

Oh, geez.  Not in my jeans.  Please, Lord.  Not in my jeans.  I ripped open the lid on the washing machine and …

HONK!  HONK!  HONK!  HONK!  HONK!  HONK!  HONK!

… reached in, searching for my wet, newly laundered blue jeans.  Found ‘em.  Quick.  The pocket.  The left pocket.

HONK!  HONK!  HONK!  HONK!  HONK!  HONK!  HONK!

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO…..  my soggy keys fell out onto the floor.  I grabbed them, prayed they would work, and pushed the panic button.

HONK!  HONK!  HONK!  HONK!  HONK!  HONK!  HONK!

Not good.  I ran back to the garage, opened the car door, slid the key into the ignition and started Emma up.  And at last … peace.  Quiet.  Solitude.  I fell forward and leaned on the steering wheel, considering falling back to sleep right there.  And then taking a deep breath.  A breath that smelled like … EXHAUST!  Quick!  Turn the key off!  Turn the key off NOW!  And I fell back onto the wheel.  My right hand grabbed for the garage door opener and pressed down until I heard the door kick to life.  Surprisingly, my neighbors were not marching up the street with flaming torches in their hands ready to beat the noisy offender to a bloody pulp with clubs and tire irons.

As I leaned upon the steering wheel at 2:15AM and felt the breeze from outside wash over me, a voice spoke.  A quiet voice.  A voice of stillness.

“You know, Ron, your life has been a lot like that horn lately.  You are paying attention to every screaming voice, every squeaky wheel.  You are so busy searching for the elusive key to the quiet that you have forgotten that the quiet resides INSIDE of you.  You are turned outward all day long, living in the rough and tumble world, dealing with issues, trying to help people solve their problems.  Trying to move the flock that I have given you closer to me.  You have forgotten that you have to turn inward into the stillness.  I reside in you.  I want to sit with you in the peace.  I want to enjoy you in the solitude.  The key is to stop.  Just stop.  Sit down with me, lean into me, and let’s be together.”

I looked around the garage.  I was alone.  The inaudible voice was one I have come to know.  It’s the voice of the Spirit of God.  Oh, how I love to hear from Him!  There is peace in that voice.  Promise in that voice.  Joy in that voice.

And so I am trying again.  I’m not trying harder.  I’m trying easier.  I’m doing all I can to simply “stop doing” several times a day.  And I’m trying to “fall inward.”  I’m trying to look upward.  I’m trying to listen in stillness.

To enjoy.  To be enjoyed.  By my creator, my Lord, my King.  That is what my life is made for.

Odd, isn’t it?  It took a loud HONK at 2AM to remind me to listen to a quiet WHISPER at 2:15.  That is the way my God works.  And I love Him for it.