I need a new secretary. My old one is either a smart-alec, or she needs hearing aids.
Siri is the reason I spent the big bucks on an i-Phone. Despite the fact that she has yet to fetch my coffee in the morning, I like being able to send her on virtual errands to find information, call my husband, or add an item to my grocery list. But this morning, I depended on her. This morning, I needed her. This morning, she failed me.
I picked up my mom to take her to her doctor’s appointment in the next town. I’d never been to this particular address, so I asked Siri to find a map. That’s not too much to ask a secretary, is it?
“Siri, find directions to 1717 Paluxy Drive, Granbury.”
“Finding directions to 707 Taluxy Drive, Grand Prairie.”
Was she kidding me? I had spoken quite clearly. But everyone’s entitled to an error every now and again, and I’m a forgiving person. The first time, anyway. “Siri, find directions to 1717 Paluxy Drive, Granbury.”
“Finding directions to 1617 Patuxie Drive, Hamberry.”
“Siri. Find directions to 1-7-1-7- P-A-L-U-X-Y Drive, G-R-A-N-B-U-R-Y.”
And on we went. After the seventh or eighth try, she got it right. At that point, I was ready to chunk her out the window. At that point, we were nearly there.
I should really have more compassion, considering the number of times I’ve failed to hear Him correctly. Time and again, God has given clear directions for my life. He doesn’t mumble or stutter, and yet time and again, I’ve heard what I wanted to hear instead of what He actually said.
I can be stubborn. Obstinate. Even pig-headed.
I pretend not to hear. I choose my own path and then try to plead ignorance. I plow right into that wide, muddy path when the detour is clearly marked.
When God tells me to go left, I pretend to hear “right,” and I feign surprise when I get stuck in the mire. I’m not sure why He hasn’t fired me yet, or left me to gurgle and kick in the quicksand of my decisions.
I’m so glad He’s patient with me. When others would have left my stubborn self to sink, He comes every time to pull me out of whatever hole I’ve landed in. He gives me chance after chance to get it right, whispering words of wisdom and counsel in hopes that this time, I’ll listen.
I don’t know why I’m so hard of hearing, but I am. He spells things out clearly, and I still mess up. Sometimes He even yells. The problem is all mine; I need to adjust my spiritual hearing aids so I can recognize His voice, listen to His guidance, and find my way the first time He speaks.
Renae Brumbaugh Green is a bestselling author and award-winning humor columnist. She lives in Stephenville with her handsome, country-boy husband, nearly-perfect children, and far too many animals. Connect with Renae at www.RenaeBrumbaugh.com.