When I was not quite four years old I was upstairs in my parents bedroom. It was morning and I was supposed to get dressed.
At that age I had heard from my parents about God, but I had no understanding to believe in. I doubted. And there in that upstairs bedroom in my inner dialogue I challenged God.
“If there is a God, blow in my ear”, I said to myself. What more direct challenge could a three and a half year old make? And Whooosshh in my right ear a breath of air like one would use to blow out a candle. And before the sensation faded I was turned ’round and running faster than I could, down more stairs at a time than I could remember and I was too terrified to remember if I screamed. When I reached my Mom in the kitchen, there was nothing to say but “God blew in my ear!” I sobbed. I probably got just the reaction one would expect from an adult upon hearing that pronouncement coming from a three and a half year old. ”There there it was probably just the wind.” She might have said through a hug.
I don’t really have any other clear memories about that time of my life other than the usual every day stuff an almost four year old might remember about the world.
I’m seventy years old now and though I don’t think of it often, that memory of that breath is as clear to me as yesterday.
The only reason I remember how old I was then is because I wasn’t in school yet which started at five and I have a sense of intervening time between that event and my first day in Kindergarten with Mrs. Tuckey.
The Voice
