On a nametag that had been taped on my desk were the letters J-U-L-I-A. My desk was just behind Tara’s and next to me was J.P. I was a little girl of six years with more stories to tell than time would allow. I always had an answer or a question or a comment. So, when Miss Rood would look out at her class, often my tiny hand was waving about. When I didn’t get the attention I desired, I would try to sit up higher in my chair and sometimes little noises would slip out like, “uh, uh.” As if these utterances would help her to see my six year old figure that was frantically signaling to her that I wanted her attention. Lest you think that my teacher lived up to her name, she was kind and gave attention when appropriate. But often would teach in the silence.
As of late there are times when I feel like that six year old is trapped inside of me. I look at God and flail my hand trying to catch His gaze. “Uh, uh” are the syllables that are thrust from my mouth in a desperate attempt to get His attention. My heart feels as though He cannot see His child or as if He may have forgotten I am sitting here. But I am finding that He, too, is teaching in the silence.
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