Do you know what the face of God looks like? Have you ever wondered? I heard the base of this story many years ago, enlarged it and wrote this brief story. It so touched my heart when I heard it—it resonated as true!
I Found My Answer
She looks so familiar; I’ve seen her before—before I ended up here in this house with my parents. She has the answer I know to the question that has been haunting me for months. All I have to do is get her alone and ask my question, my one big important question. Any time I get close enough to her to ask, my parents throw their arms up to guard the baby and scream, “Don’t hurt the baby! Be careful! She’s fragile. You could hurt her.”
You see—she’s a newborn. They just brought her home from the hospital. Her name is Ann. I’m Laurie, her three-year-old sister. I wasn’t that excited about her when she was in my mom’s tummy, but since I’ve seen her, I know she’s got the answer, if they will ever let me near her, alone! She’s oh so familiar. I know her.
I try to outfox them—one time after another, I almost get to her—to whisper my question in her ear. She’s one of those who knows, and I know it. I recognize her and her spirit. But their stopping me frustrates me. What am I to do?
I must get to her before she forgets, like I have. Or have I? I have a vague recollection. Cloudy images float through my mind that are a part of the answer, but I know she knows for sure!
My deep desire for the answer only increases; my tactics change, but nothing seems to work. They’re set on protecting her from me, and I’m equally set on getting to her for the answer.
I stand by my mom as she holds her—that beautiful cherub face ready to tell me, but I know I can’t ask this question in front of Mom. She would only get upset because I would need to get really close to Ann. I have to whisper right in her ear, then put my ear up to her mouth to hear her response, because she will speak softly and gently in words no adult can recognize. I think I still can understand. Before, I used to hear that language, but I haven’t since I’ve been here with my parents—they don’t speak it. I’ve seen that face before, I know. Since Ann has been with us, I’ve heard some of her sounds and they sound vaguely familiar—other worldly. I need just a little time, only minutes, but we need to be alone and quiet!
I don’t give up, but my plans have changed. Now, I stop the outright frontal attack; I wait and watch for the opportune time, and my patience finally pays off.
My parents baptize Ann at one month old and give a big party, inviting family and friends to show off their new child. This proves to be the distraction I need.
The guests all “ooh” and “ah” over her and bring me gifts too, so I won’t feel left out. I’m not worried about gifts or sibling rivalry or stuff like that—I’m on a mission. My folks think I’m jealous of Ann, that I want to hurt her, but that’s not true at all. If only I could it explain it to them.
Mom has lots of delicious food and drink. They enjoy good, light-hearted conversation with family and friends. For the first time since Ann arrived, my parents relax about me bothering my baby sister. The party atmosphere distracts them, so I’m on the move.
Startled back to reality, Mom asks my grandma, “Where’s Laurie?”
Everyone starts the search for me, but my time had come a few moments ago when quietly I slipped out of the living room, up the stairs into my baby sister’s nursery. She is sleeping, but that’s OK. Now, I can still talk to her anyway, and she’ll answer.
Carefully, I pull a chair over to her crib and crawl up into it, not to wake or hurt her. Then I lay down next to her and begin whispering my question into her ear —
“Tell me, what does the face of God look like? I have been here for three years away from Him, and I have almost forgotten what He looks like. I yearn for His familiar face.”
A knowing smile crosses Ann’s lips, and her answer came through her spirit as I heard her response, “He looks like me.” Yahoo! I knew it! That’s why she looked so familiar! Something inside me knew it all along!! Every time I have seen a baby in the last three years, something fluttered deep inside me, seeing those precious faces. In seeing them, I got the urge to ask that question. I especially felt drawn to the newborn, but having a baby in my home really made the asking easy—after I got past Mom and Dad.
Anne’s answer quiets my spirit, and I am peaceful at last. She reconnected me with my God. I gaze at her sweet face and sigh in relief. Now I can hold on to this truth for a few more years.
Little did I know my Aunt Janey was sitting in a rocking chair in the corner of the room and had heard the entire conversation (my side only because she can’t hear babies.) My question touched her heart deeply.
She didn’t move or try to stop me—she gulped and restrained herself because she had heard my parents’ frantic concern. Serenely, I fell asleep next to my little angelic sister, at peace with the answer about my God. My parents found me resting there after their mad search—my quest had ended moments earlier. I had found my answer.
Copyright © 2018 Larada Horner-Miller
Whimsical, maybe, but such a mystery! What does the face of God look like to you? Let me know!
~MY FIRST AUDIOBOOK IS AVAILABLE: Go to Audible to buy my first audiobook, Let Me Tell You a Story
~Do you listen to podcasts? Here are three podcasts with my interviews about my new book & some Flippo stories:
~Here’s Christmas greetings from Flippo & Neeca, featuring his song, “When Its Christmas Time in Texas”: https://youtu.be/mpJCUGffU3A
~Visit my website to find out about my new book, Coronavirus Reflections: Bitter or Better? and my other five books and three cookbooks: https://laradasbooks.com