When he came up with the idea I told myself not to get involved, not to offer suggestions. To my credit, I stayed out of it UNTIL he planned on meeting at the church. Please, everyone knows you can't share your heart while sitting on metal framed straight backed goldfish yellow chairs. Not to mention you need appetizers, drinks... at least chips, for goodness sake.
Like I said, every Tuesday night is Men's Night at our house.
Apart from the fact that I now feel compelled to clean on Tuesday, and that I need to come up with some sort of appetizer, the biggest thing I didn't consider is, 'What am I supposed to do with myself during this time?' Our house is not very big and our TV room is very near to our living room where they meet. That won't work. I could sit in our office but the bathroom is right off the office and that just feels weird when one of the guys come in to use it.
Every Tuesday night at our house is Jessica's Quiet Reading Time in her Room Night.
Our house is old, with hard wood floors and large gaps between the door and the floor, so every Tuesday night is also, Jessica Shoves a Pillow Between her Bedroom Door and Floor to Drowned out the Temptation of Listening to What is Being Said Downstairs Night.
Last time, while trying to read, I realized despite the pillow, despite distracting myself with a book, I can still hear my husband's voice. It is quiet, it is faint but I can hear it. Even more, I can understand it. Oddly, two of the men in the group have really booming voices, loud in fact, but as I listen they sound like they are talking into jars. I can't make out words only sounds, however, the quieter voice of my husband rings clear to me.
I can hear my husbands voice. I can understand his words, because I am accustomed to his voice. I know his inflections, I know his phrasing. I know him. I am his; I can hear his voice. This thought warmed me and when I am warmed I tend to get pensive. Soon, all these thoughts of hearing my husband's voice brought me to a familiar verse.
John 10:27
My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me. (ESV)
As I lay there thinking first about the voice of the man I share my life with, and then about the voice of a God who has shared His all with me, Tuesday night at our house became, Jessica's Private Praise and Worship Time. You see, despite all the pillows that I have shoved into my life, all the times I have tried to drowned it out, I can still hear God's voice because He still calls me. I am His sheep.
I am His sheep. Even though I am often times the one grazing in the mud when he is beckoning me to the pastures, even though I am often satisfied eating gravel when he offers grain. I am His sheep and He is my Shepherd. His voice seeps through the pillows shoved deep into the crevices of my soul. Because Jesus is God, because Jesus is true, His powerful voice reaches out to me. Because He loves me, because I am his sheep he calls to me saying "Don't go that way. Come to me, lie down in this green pasture. Come this way, stay away from those currents, choose these quiet waters. Follow my voice, follow my path for I want to restore your soul (Psalm 23:2).
I am simply a sheep but the Shepherd has chosen me, and Praise God, I can hear His voice. And when a voice says such beautiful truths, how can I not follow?
So there you have it, Tuesday night at the Whittemore House (minus the hot spinach artichoke dip and a bunch of guys talking about who knows what).
YES! YOU ARE BACK AT IT. CAN'T WAIT FOR THE NEXT ONE!
ReplyDeleteExcellent, Jessica. Feels like I am there.
ReplyDelete