One of my favorite stories is when I was 3 years old and my mom needed to run a few errands. Leaving me to ride my tricycle on our back patio in the care of my dad in sunny Southern California, I was content to navigate circles on the modest concrete square. Mom's trip had barely begun, less than a mile away when she heard clearly, "Go back and get Joy off the patio, NOW!" She described how the command sprung her into action, as she whipped the car around to return home. Running through the house quickly opening the large sliding glass door to retrieve me and bring me inside, she looked intently at my face and arms and legs, unclear what this was all about. I seemed fine. Surely, her guardian angel had reached her for a reason? Her deep breath of relief was interrupted by the jolt of an earthquake, shaking the house, blasting sharp shards from the sliding glass door all over the patio. My tricycle scratched and covered in glass left my parents stunned and grateful. This experience has been a springboard for a lifetime of faithfulness and the lessons of "listening" paramount.