10: You Only Need to Tell Me Twice

10: You Only Need to Tell Me Twice

From Chicken Soup for the Soul: Touched by an Angel

You Only Need to Tell Me Twice

I think miracles exist in part as gifts and in part as clues that there is something beyond the flat world we see.

~Peggy Noonan

I was exhausted. The weeklong trip to introduce our newborn son to our Southern relatives was taking its toll. Now that the baby and my husband were taking their naps, I sat on the couch and could not keep my eyes open either. Unfortunately, our toddling two-year-old daughter was not sleepy at all.

It was a beautiful day in the hills of West Virginia. Grandparents and aunts sat on the back porch enjoying the soft rustling breeze, the chirping birds, and the sound of the distant flowing creek.

“Would you mind watching Abigail for a little? I’d like to take a nap,” I asked the chatting group on the porch.

“Sure. You take a rest,” encouraged the well-meaning relatives. I had forgotten they had not looked after a two-year-old for some years.

I was in deep sleep when I was roused by an audible voice: “Go get Abigail.” It was an urgent but gentle command, and I was not afraid at all.

I sat up quickly to take stock. The baby was peacefully sleeping. The aunts were watching Abigail. No one was around to talk to me. It must have been a dream. I nestled again into the comforting cushions and went back to sleep.

Again a calm but serious voice ordered firmly, “Go get Abigail.”

This time I did not hesitate. I had heard the voice of an unseen being twice, and I did not need to be told again. I jumped from the couch and ran out the back door and onto the peaceful porch.

“Where’s Abigail?” I cried.

Gray heads swayed to survey the yard. “She was here a minute ago.”

I leapt off the porch into the yard and headed straight to the sound of the rushing water. It took only minutes to reach the swollen banks that bordered the back property. There on a sun-warmed slab of rock was Abigail peeling off her socks, preparing to step into the beckoning, shimmering flow.

“Thank you,” I said to God, tears streaming down my face.

“Here let me help you,” I said to my little girl, settling her securely on the creek’s edge.

Now safely under my supervision, I let her dangle her little toes in the cool stream. We picked violets, threw them into the water, and watched them wind away from us.

No one needed to be admonished this minute. For now, we all just needed to be thankful.

~Laury Davis

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