Saturday afternoon I found myself sitting where even a week ago I would not have bothered to go. On a log, by a river, after a little walk in the woods. It was beautiful.
A friend had mentioned hearing this generic roar, and following it to the river that was creating it. He found that where he expected a single, generic roar, there were actually a few distinct sounds combining to make that roar. Here the gentle whoosh of water rushing over the rocks. There a tiny trickle persevering to flow. Over there, a deeper pool with a deeper, more hushed swishing sound. All combined so that from a distance all one hears is a roar, but when one moves closer one discovers there is more there than originally met the ear.
In the constant rush of humanity, and the loud noise of life, one wonders how in the world God can hear all our prayers at once. But He hears every disctinct sound we make - be it the enthusiastic new believer praying like crazy, or the beaten down person fighting to hold on.
As I sat on that log, I found myself glad that God's hearing is so much better than mine.