A moment ago, Maggie felt completely normal. Listening to the soft keyboard playing, she was happy and still, standing in her pew, eyes closed, silently pondering her Lord. But a word had suddenly popped into her head. Cradle.

Cradle.

 

Cradle?

 

She tried to dismiss it. Why am I thinking about the word cradle? It makes no sense. She tried resuming her silent worship. But the word wouldnt go away. And now she started seeing a cradle. Imagining it sitting there, in front of her eyes, behind her eyelids. It started taking on detail, shadows and texture. She explored it with her minds eye. All the while, trying to make sense of what it might mean.

Why this word? What does it mean? Why cant I think of anything else? This cradle before me why dont I want to look away? I wonder whats in it?

Her mind zoomed in on the cradle, but there was nothing in it. A little straw perhaps. But thats because it looks like a manger and my imagination is putting the straw there surely.

Then, out of nowhere, another thought came to her. A little voice that seemed to say Im using you. And your imagination. Go with it. And then the thought took her further and said, Talk about it. Explain it to My people.

 

She grew hot. In an instant a mere heartbeat, her body had turned into a sweltering oven. Red hot pumping blood began throbbing loudly in her ears, it was a wonder no one else nearby could hear it. Her stomach fluttered and her hands grew clammy. And her chest! If whoever was in there could stop hammering the inside wall of her heart with all their might, she would have appreciated it greatly. She knew soon... She knew He was telling her to speak. To let her... silly little idea come trickling out... But all she had was one word and the image of a lone cradle. How could she explain it when she didnt understand it herself?

 

This random thought that had just come to her out of the blue, was it even from God? Or was it just her distracted mind wandering, getting carried away? Cradle wasnt a particularly new or unusual word. Some would even say it was a bit cliché. Especially with the straw. It was pretty ordinary. Surely anything she had to say about it wasnt going to be new or enlightened or profound. Everyone knew all the symbolic connotations that came with the idea of a cradle. Its been done before.

 

She kept quiet. Shed made a resolve. She wouldnt say anything.

The nerves settled down a bit, thankfully. She breathed in a deep, shaky breath...

 

Cradle.

 

The word came again, like someone knocking persistently on the door instead of giving up and leaving her alone.

 

The cradles image came back again. Zooming in, slowly

Make room.

 

Whoa. Okay. That was new.

 

Say it. Speak.

 

She held onto her breath for a few brief moments...

Then, in the next moment, she heard her own voice. Speaking! Out loud! She hadn't planned what she was going to say!

What am I doing?!

 

But God spoke to His church that day. Maggie remembered afterwards how confident and sure her words had been. And the words did come, she didnt just repeat the word cradle, cradle, cradle like a moron. A few seconds after opening up her mouth, a little message unpacked itself and words from somewhere (she knew exactly where) came dancing and skipping pleasantly out and bounced off the walls and into open hearts. There hadnt been many words, and she couldn't even remember now everything she had said. But whatever it was, and as much as she knew she hadnt planned it, a certain Someone sure had.

One of the older ladies, who sits up the back and sometimes knits, came to her during morning tea in tears.

 

I am thank you for that word this morning. I dont I just thank you. She breathed and clasped Maggies arm with her delicate, shaking hand. I needed to hear that this morning.