Falling on deaf ears

God is talking to me. Fervently, but quietly. Pleading for me to stop and hear Him.

Last week, before I got hit by the car. Last night, when I was trying to sleep.

But for some reason, when He speaks, I don't know it's Him.

As my family and I were riding our bikes right before I got hit, I was thinking of the day, of how lovely it was, of how glad I was to be out of the house, how glad I was that Jeremy was toting the kids, and not me. Then, from out of nowhere, I had this thought, clear as if someone had read it from a book next to me, "I am going to be hit by a car." I wondered on that for a while, and I thought how interesting a situation that would be if I did indeed get hit by a car, and then let the thought slip past, and kept going.

Last night, both Jeremy and I were exhausted from our day. The kids were crazy, our dryer died, I was tired from exercising, from not paying attention to what I was eating, I was stressed out from dealing with all that comes with an almost-four-year-old, tired from being on the computer too much, watching TV too much, everything too much. As we turned off the light, my husband fell asleep, and I just laid there. I was boggled as to why I was not asleep since I had been exhausted when the light went out. But, nevertheless, I laid in the dark, trying to understand why I was awake. I thought it was something I ate, something I watched, something I did right before bed that caused me to lay wakeful.

At 7am, my husband shot out of bed because his alarm didn't go off, which cause him and 3 other co-workers to be late.

There are many other times things like this have happened. God keeps giving me opportunities to listen to Him, just for my own and my family's sake, to answer prayers I have made in our behalf, but I am not hearing what He has to say. Why am I surprised He does? And, why don't I listen?

I shouldn't be surprised. All day long I pray for guidance, sometimes it's all I can do to keep from breaking apart. And I yearn for God to push me along, telling me what to do next. I scream from within myself for help, but I can't hear Him. It's not until I am quiet that He speaks, but because I am not looking His direction, I don't know it's come from God.

When did I fill my life up with so much noise that I ceased to be able to hear and recognize God? What unfailing patience God has with his children. What unfailing love and concern for their well-being.

It humbles me that I don't even know where to start to quiet down my life. I have lived with so much turmoil in my soul for so long it's as if that is all I have ever known. Have these experiences caused me enough anxiety for me to make a permanent change in my behavior and way of thinking? I have to hope so, and quietly listen.