“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