“God helps those who helps themselves”

I hear my mother proclaim for the umpteenth time,

In this case a faint, but noticeable voice from the kitchen corridor,

As I made my exit avoiding the call.

 

Others can help us in our discernment,

Even if we have a rebel thought to auto-reject,

Like the change going into the parking machine,

From times gone by, before ATMs serviced our every need.

 

Listening for the small, still voice is a mode I try and stay tuned to,

But sometimes it’s a strong, resonating voice, coming from another body,

Someone who cares about us, sees us through God’s eyes,

Who calls us to inaction, from a deep sleep, induced by indecision not discernment.

 

Perhaps even laziness. For when does discernment become inaction I ask myself