The Still Small Voice

“Kat, honey, what are you doing?” Leah had just laid her two-year old daughter down for the night, but the girl kept tilting her head to look around Leah.

“Trying to see Jesus.” Kat smiled matter-of-factly as she looked up at the ceiling. As if this were a common occurrence. 

Leah followed her gaze but all she saw was the smoke detector attached to the ceiling. “I don’t see anything, honey.”

“Jesus is right there, Mommy. Don’t you see him?” Kat’s green eyes were wide and round beneath her dark curls.

“I don’t honey.” Leah tried to keep her voice even as she shook her head. She didn’t want her daughter to know she was afraid of her seeing visions. This wasn’t the first time she had claimed to see Jesus.

The first time, Jesus had been on the hall ceiling as they were heading out to church. 

“Are you ready, munchkin?” Leah scooped up her daughter who giggled as she flew through the air. “You ready to go to church?”

Kat’s curls bobbed as she nodded.

“And do you love Jesus?”

Kat’s tiny mouth pulled into a large smile and she pointed to the corner of the ceiling. “Uh huh. Hi, Jesus.” She waved her little hand, the same way she waved to Leah whenever she dropped her off with the nanny. 

Leah brushed it off as a two-year old’s imagination. “Do you see Jesus up there?” Kat nodded again and Leah kissed her on the cheek. “Well, that’s nice. I wish I could see Jesus like you do.”

The second time, Jesus appeared in the corner of Kat’s ceiling as Leah was reading her a story.

“Honey, where are you going? The story isn’t finished yet.” 

Leah watched as Kat toddled over to the small area between the closed bedroom door and the closet. She pointed her tiny hand up at the ceiling. “Hi, Jesus.” Then she held up her bunny as if offering the stuffed toy to someone. “No?” She lowered the bunny and looked around the room. Then she grabbed a book, returned to the spot, and held it up. “No? Okay.” She returned to Leah and climbed back onto her lap to finish the story. “He doesn’t want bunny.” 

Leah forced a tight-lipped smile across her face. Was her daughter really seeing Jesus or was this the natural young child imagination at work?

Tonight, Jesus was in a different place. He was still on the ceiling but now firmly over the foot of Kat’s bed instead of by her bedroom door. While Leah hoped her daughter was seeing Jesus, she couldn’t dismiss the possibility that she was seeing something else and that bothered her. “Can you tell me what he looks like?”

“He’s wearing white, but he’s not talking to Bunny.” Kat held up her stuffed bunny – the one that went everywhere with her. Once a soft pink color, time and dirt had worn the plush animal to a dull grey color now.

“Does he talk to you?” Leah supposed she should be relieved that whatever Kat was seeing was wearing white and not black, but the fact he didn’t talk struck her as odd. If Kat was seeing Jesus, wouldn’t He tell her how much He loved her or something like that? Leah was a religious person. She believed in God, but she’d never seen God or heard Him speak to her.

“He’s not talking right now.”

“Is he smiling?” She was trying not to ask leading questions, but it was hard with a two-year-old who was just now putting sentences together. Leah wished she could see what her daughter was seeing to make sure it was safe.

“Mommy, who’s that?”

Leah followed the tiny index finger pointing to the top of Kat’s closet. “I don’t know, honey. I don’t see anything.” A cold stone settled in Leah’s stomach. It was one thing to be seeing Jesus, but now she was seeing something else too? What was wrong with her daughter? She tried to keep the tremor out of her voice as she spoke again. “Here, let’s get to sleep. We’ll see Jesus in the morning.” 

She whipped the blanket up and let it fall until it covered Kat completely, another thing Leah found odd. Most of her friends said their children were afraid of the dark, but Kat wanted to be under the blanket. It had to cover her head and her toes. Leah wondered if the visions were why Kat wanted her head covered. Though not simultaneous, they had started at similar times.

Leah sat in the rocker in Kat’s room until she heard the rhythmic cadence of breathing signaling her sleep; then she tiptoed out of the room and to the master bedroom down the hall. Her Bible lay on her nightstand, where she kept it to remind her to read every night, and she picked it up before sinking to her knees on the floor.

She clutched the Bible against her chest and turned her head heavenward. “Lord, please protect my daughter. I don’t know what she is seeing, but please protect her.” That was all Leah could get out before the tears ran down her cheeks. She had waited so long for her baby girl, and now she was terrified that either something was wrong with her or that something would happen to her.