Wednesday, November 3, 2010
With Bells On
There's a young lady I see, usually crossing the street, when I drop my son off at school. I've watched her grow up. Our families used to go to church together. I say a little prayer of blessing as she passes. This morning I noticed her shoes. They were cute! "She has the cutest shoes." I said to myself. Then I remembered the bells. More accurately I remembered Mom and her friend Janell talking about the bells on their childrens' shoes. I represent 1/4 of those eight tiny feet jingling as they walked. Like Mom, Janell is also blind and the bells were a way of knowing where their kids were. I don't remember wearing bells on my shoes. It must've been a toddler thing. I wonder if Mom missed the sound of the bells when it was time to take them off. As I grew she had a new way of keeping track of me. She'd call out my name. When I'd ask what she wanted she'd say, "Nothing. I just wanted to know where you were." The Bible calls God our loving Father. Our Abba, which is a term of endearment like Daddy. He doesn't need me to wear bells but if I did I'm sure He wouldn't be too pleased with some of the paths they've jingled on. That's why He gave us the Holy Spirit Who calls out my name. When I ask what He wants He replies, "I just wanted you to know where you were." Bells on rebellious feet are silenced as I fall to my knees and repent. When I stand up I head in a new direction.