I thought I could, through ample complaints and tears, pull God to my way of thinking. It wasn’t working. Instead, in the relative silence around me I heard, in my spirit, a voice speak so distinctly that I turned to see if it had been my dad in the kitchen two rooms away. This Voice did not speak words of comfort and reassurance, though I found comfort and reassurance in them. It did not speak an answer to my problem, though it was my answer for what to do right in that moment.
