My Father’s Voice

Yesterday while driving home from work with my daughter, I stopped to get her something to eat. I happened upon a particular restaurant next to a building on Zang, which brought back a memory related to my father.  I began to tell my daughter the story of how one day I was going into this building on Zang to get information regarding joining a business organization.  As I parked and gathered my materials to go inside the building, there was a group of older men congregating outside the bank entrance.  As I approached them, I noticed their conversation ceased and they turned their attention towards me.  They acknowledged me; not wanting to make much eye contact I returned their greeting and proceeded swiftly inside to conduct my business.  After collecting the materials, I needed to hurry back to work.  As I approached the exit door I saw the same group of men, now larger as more men had stopped to visit with them, still maintaining their position outside the building.  As I exited the door and walked past the men, I overheard some of their conversation regarding their opinions of my physical appearance.  Unbeknownst to me, my father was exiting Bank of America in that same building and heard the men commenting about this particular woman walking away from them.  “Man, did you see her; did you see those legs, oh she had a pretty smile, etc.”  So, my father (who told me more of the conversation later), said as he got closer to the men they pointed him in the direction of the woman they were commenting about; unbeknownst to them, his daughter.

Although I had my head down—as if I was so engrossed in the literature I had just picked up from the organization—I was really just trying to avoid the men, their gestures and catcalling. Sometimes a lady will greet/acknowledge as a matter of common courtesy, but some men take that as an open door and become offended if they pursue further and you state your disinterest.  Later that evening, my dad called to tell me he saw me earlier in the day and explained the scenario at the bank.  I asked, “why didn’t you call out to me, why didn’t you make your presence known?”  My father responded that first, I was walking so fast that I was almost to my car when he realized it was me and second, he said the fact that the men were talking and laughing and yelling so loudly he didn’t know if I would have heard him or not, to which I responded, “I’m your daughter; I know my father’s voice!”

Today, in the midst of all the chaos in the land, the voices of the naysayers, the criticizers, the liars, the perverters of Truth, your Father is wondering, why won’t you call out to Him, why won’t you make your presence known. No matter how loudly they are talking, He wants me to tell you to listen, He is speaking.  Stand still, turn around; close your eyes.  Listen for the voice of your Father!©

Belinda Powell October 20, 2016