These were the words that greeted me on Memorial Day. I got home late the night before and the kids were already asleep. I kissed them each on the forehead and said a prayer over them. The next morning, my son heard my voice and I heard/felt the thunderous roar of his tiny but loud feet run from his room to ours.
And I got one of the greatest hugs in the history of documented hugs. I tried, but I’m not sure the one I returned was equal in scope or strength to his.
And as I held on to my little boy, he said, “I missed seeing your voice.”
With a chuckle (and repressing the grammar police) I said, “I missed seeing your voice, too.” Who would take that away from a child?
Emma came in a few moments later and we shared hugs, too. It was a wonderful reunion and a great way to start the day.
As they day went along, I kept hearing Andrew say those words. “I missed seeing your voice.”
We played soccer at Grandpa’s and Grandma’s house and I heard it in my head. “I missed seeing your voice.”
We drove home in the car. “I missed seeing your voice.”
I tucked him in that night. “I missed seeing your voice.”
I’m (almost) sure he didn’t mean it that way, but there’s a deep theology that blooms in his words. There’s an intimacy and an experience that resonates with them.
Hearing my voice means that I’m there, somewhere. It means he’s listening. But seeing it means to look further, deeper. Seeing something means you have to put yourself in a position without obstacle, without barrier.
He chased my voice that morning. He chased it with a raw excitement. I heard the joy in his voice and I loved the sound of his steps.
Isn’t this how it is with our souls? We know when we’ve been apart for a while. We know, we sense the distance, or the disconnect. And when we finally restore the connection, when we draw ourselves back into that Presence, when we hear that Voice again.
The voice that means He’s there. It’s a Voice that fills us with joy. A Voice that causes us to run to a place where we can see Him and where we can say…
“ABBA!!!!!!!!! I missed seeing your voice.”