Zak created an interesting game. It all began when he called out to me one time, and I responded with what my dad used to say all the time, “Yowser!” (obviously a Southern Louisiana version of “Yes, Sir”). I guess Zak had never heard anything quite like that, because he gave me a quizzical glance and then erupted into a fit of giggles. “DadDad say yowser!” Then the games began.
Zak: “DadDad?”
Me: “Yowser!”
Zak: “DadDad?”
Me: “Yowser!”
And in the unmistakable style of a two year old, the game continued on and on … and on. Until who should walk in but Nana. Now the game changed. What does Nana say?
Zak: “Nana?”
Nana: “Zakary!”
Zak: “Nana?”
Nana: “Zakary!”
Zak: “DadDad?”
Me: “Yowser!”
I hope you get the picture. Because he moved on. Surely everyone has something to say. Mommy? MeeMaw? Daddy? Uncle Kel? Aunt Christina? He was right! Everybody had something to say, but nobody’s was quite as unique as DadDad’s “Yowser!” I know, because I had to say it at least twice as much as anybody else! I guess he just had to make sure the answer was always going to be there.
That got me to thinking. I do the same thing to God. Always going back to him in just the same way - just to make sure. And he’s always there. Remember Jeremiah 33:3, “Call to me and I will answer you and tell you the great and unsearchable things you don’t know.”
You know what, Lord? Sometimes I really don’t need to know unsearchable things. I just need to know you are there. That’s kind of where I am now. Could you just send me a quick, “Yowser”? Thanks.
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