My dad used to stand at the back door and holler for one of my brothers or my mom or me. His call meant there was work to be done and he needed help to do it—NOW! My mom’s call was most often associated with food, “Call the boys for supper.” Upon this command, I would stand at the bottom of the stairs and holler “SUPPER!” Our neighbor would call and invite us to her home for a New Year’s Eve party. My mother would call her and return the invitation the following year. I don’t ever remember a teacher calling our house, but I would guess that would not have been good news.
One time my husband, Peter, and I were hiking with my brother and his partner in Big Bend National Park. An Episcopal priest had recommended what she thought would be a fairly easy trail for us. She obviously did not know us very well. To my recollection there was more uphill than down and the sun was plenty warm and the breeze was a bit too still to be of much help. Even Peter, who has a long history of running and walking on the flats of Northwest Ohio found this trail to be of some challenge. Still, he was able to march on well ahead of the rest of us and disappeared for a time behind the rocks. He reappeared waving with considerable vigor and calling out “Hey Pammie!” You see, he had found what we had all been promised: a cool and refreshing waterfall at the end of the trail.
We sometimes think of God’s call to us to be limited to the hollering of my father—a call to action! I don’t discount the importance of this sort of call either for my dad or for God. Still, I think it is just as common, if not more so, for God’s call to be in invitation to be nourished, to celebrate, to chat for a while.
May God’s enthusiastic call to you alert you to beauty, refreshment and peace.
