By Ada Brownell
We whisper for
different reasons.
For instance, whispers
can be romantic. Here a quote from my historical romance, Peach Blossom Rancher:The next morning at the railroad station John disregarded Valerie’s black mourning dress, pulled her close and pressed his ready lips to her lightly painted ones. She blinked, and her eyes opened with surprise. Yet elegance radiated from her whole body.
“We didn’t have
much time together,” he whispered near a small ear that held a diamond earring.
A pleasing fragrance filled his nostrils. “I don’t want you to forget me when
you get to Boston.
A whisper can also
keep the wrong people from hearing what you say. This conversation occurs in an
asylum for the insane in the same book. Dillon, a physician committed because of one seizure, introduced them to Jimmy Cook, a former teacher paralyzed from the waist down, admitted only because of the paralysis.
A short distance from the other patients, Dillon told about Curly Hicks who had a thought disorder and Bobby Ward, who tried to kill his stepfather.
Archibald grasped Dillon’s shoulder. “Is there any way you can contact me?”
Dillon bent toward his ear, but Valerie could hear. “There is one really nice guard. I think he might mail a letter for me.”
“We anticipated that.” Archibald slid paper, two envelopes, and stamps from underneath his shirt.
Valerie turned her back, reached into her bosom, and brought out two pencils and handed them to Dillon. “Be careful,” she whispered. “The wrong person could use these as a weapon.”
The Bible talks about whisperers, who cause harm. The Psalmist wrote in Psalm 47:1 “All who hate me whisper together against me; Against me they devise my hurt.”
Some of us whisper when we pray. Here’s another example from Peach Blossom Rancher.
Abe prayed a powerful prayer for each person around the table, and goose bumps raised over John as he whispered his own prayer before lifting his head. Tears pooled in Bellea’s eyes but didn’t spill onto her cheeks.
Another quote: The
sheriff’s voice sounded like he’d been eating sauerkraut. He stared at John.
“I’ll wait until after Doc examines him and talk to a few people, but if I
don’t get some answers, I’ll have to put you in jail.”
“Jesus, help me,”
John whispered. With all he had to do on the ranch, he didn’t have time to sit
in jail and wait for an incompetent sheriff to decide how B.J. died.
Many times I’ve
sent a heavenward prayer in a whisper.
“God carries a big
stick, doesn’t he Ada?” a co-worker asked me in the midst of a debate I wasn’t
even a part of. What could I say? I knew everyone in the newsroom could hear my
answer.
“Help, Lord!” I
whispered.
Immediately I said,
“I don’t know how we can look at cross and say that.”
Another time a young
friend came to see me and told me her widowed dad had remarried.
“I hate her!” she said. “He does all sorts of
nice things for her he never did for my mom.”
I didn’t want to
encourage such feelings. “Help me, Lord,”
I barely breathed.
Immediately I had
the answer. “Your dad gives her those good things because he wishes he’d done
them for you mother,”
The girl and the
stepmother developed a loving relationship after that.
God even whispers.
Elijah ran for his life when Jezebel wanted to kill him. Thinking
he was the only prophet left, he hid in a cave. When God first tried to get Elijah’s
attention the Lord commanded, “Go out, and
stand on the mountain.” And behold, the Lord
passed by, and a great and strong wind tore into the mountains and broke the
rocks in pieces, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind, an earthquake, but the Lord was not
in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not
in the fire; and after the fire a still
small voice.
Elijah heard it,
wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood in the entrance of the
cave. God said, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” (1 Kings 19:11-13 KJ)
That experience
set Elijah’s feet back on the right path doing things for God.
Solomon wrote, “A
word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in a setting of silver” (Proverbs
25:11).
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