A Calm Voice Over by Stormcloud

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A Calm Voice Over by Stormcloud

Stormcloud is leaving today - August 31, 2007. Some of her friends got together and collected enough gift points to get her an upgrade for a year. But she still chose to leave. She'll be missed.

I promised to keep this story in my portfolio for her.

A Calm Voice Over
by Stormcloud, a wonderful former member and friend

As an older first-time mommy (37 dobb) to an active toddler, I was ecstatically "baby-centered" 24/7. My ballooning weight had become a pressing factor as I laboriously endeavored to keep up with my normal, healthy 16-month old son's most scientific explorations.

Sidenote: Our house was a "playpen free" house. We did not believe in the confinement or the negative brain-imprinting that would result from the use of one. I was committed to move with - and shadow daily - our very happy baby.

I was anxious to become sociable with our new neighbors and establish adult friendships that would entertain or help me, should the need arise when Tom was out of town on transport runs and when Casey was down for the night.

My next-door neighbor was Edna, a Sissy Spacek look-a-like complete with strawberry hair and freckles. She had a son, Cisco, born just 4 days after mine. He was her 5th child and treated unfairly too many times by his older siblings. So whenever he got the chance to unload and vent as only a toddler can, he abused my son. That's another story.

Edna taught me all the nuances of "Garage-Sailing" and we were constantly going through curbside pick-ups to see what we might glean for our future collective Garage Sales.

Then this one particular morning, she came to my door excited about the potential treasure just down our street that we should check out before someone else did. With our sons at our heels, we walked less than a block to see what "resaleable items" awaited us.

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The street we lived on was one block off a major intersection that was quite busy three times a day. Motorists would bypass this traffic jam and light by jetting down our street. As a new family in this neighborhood, we had no idea what a short-cut speedway this street had become.

As all parents on the planet can vouch for, the age (varies only slightly) when our toddlers will keep going after being told to stop.

Sound familiar? They think this is your game and Mommy or Daddy will give chase and it's officially, P L A Y T I M E !

Casey was no different than any other toddler. He was, most certainly, at that age of ignoring Mom and Dad's "No". When told to STOP - he would not say NO - he just kept on doing as he pleased, glancing at us only long enough to keep out of our reach, squealing and grinning the entire time.

We had many of these "Stop/No/Grins/Dash" incidents on a daily basis for months! **Sigh** Thank the Lord, this too, did come to pass!

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A half-hour before lunchtime, Edna, Cisco, myself and Casey walked to the curbside bonanza that she'd found. We were rummaging through it when a horn blasted and Edna looked up to see her husband approaching their home for his lunch break.

She left the heap to meet him and was talking to him through the truck window as he idled on the street. I did an eyeball check on where "my fruit of the womb" was presently and was speared with a "sickening quickening" that permeated my entire skeletal mass when I saw him.

He had hap-hazardly followed Cisco, who had been following Edna, but Casey was wandering too far into the street, as he was more interested in the Happy-Meal toy in his hands. Partially concealed behind Juan's truck came a speeding automobile, blazing at approximately 50 in a 25.

My heart which was now lodged in my throat, was beating in a hollow, dry enclosure. I could hear and feel the pounding in my own ears! With no natural moisture in my upper body to subdue or appease the irregular rhythm, I ignored the parched pathways and made a flash assessment.

There was no way under heaven I would be able to reach my son in time to snatch him from the path of that rabid driver. If I called out to him, he would resort to his "Come and get me, mommy" game, sending him straight into the path of certain death. I couldn't make a sound; I had no voice!

Suddenly the Spirit overtook all my senses. My peripheral vision saw, as I fixated on my son while darting toward him, the racing car was, inevitable. It's path was chosen.

As my body was lunging forward absorbing the horror in front of me, the car ... Casey moving center . . . I concentrated on my child's position - weakness struck and overtook my knees, I fought consciously to remain in forward motion . . . my stomach cart-wheeled to 'wretch mode', I sucked in as much air as was humanly possible and my mouth fell open . . .

Ironically . . . in a most serene sub-scene, from my center/core-self, I heard, felt . . . saw and knew ALL AT ONCE The Name, Jesus. Surreally and quite supernaturally, Casey's name exploded in such an audible symphonic sound that we still talk about . . . 15 years later.

Casey stopped.

The car propelled past us as Edna's head snapped around to where Casey was. I got to my precious gift with thankful, torrential tears unashamedly streaming down both cheeks . . . falling to my fat knees on the concrete street where my son was saved from death.

I was mentally, in another realm of gratitude, relief and love coursed thru every fiber I had, in waves it washed me in the Love of my Lord. Barely able to stand, as I bathed myself in what had just miraculously transpired.

For out of my own mouth had come the voice of Our Father God as He commanded my son to S T O P and Casey heard his Heavenly Father's voice and obeyed. (**Chillbumps**)

Edna told me later, after I composed myself, that it was not my voice she heard. She thought some man had approached us and seeing none, was confused at whose voice had called to Casey. She kept shaking her head in the negative and repeating, "that wasn't you I heard, Phyllis." When I asked her, "who was it then?" She said, "I dunno'... but it wasn't you."

We also understood that Juan had heard Casey's name clearly over the idling engine and radio of his truck that was closer to their home than where we were located.

I had to tell her Who that was ... that commanded my son, by His mere voice, to "Be Still"! Then she, as a Christian, understood the miracle that had unfolded before our very eyes; moreover ears, and we joyously wept together.

"I go on faith. I know how it sounds, but I really believe these things work out the way they're designed to."

The Bible tells us that His sheep know His voice.

I am blessed that my "kid" (pun intended

) recognized The Voice ... the unmistakable voice of The Shepherd!

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