By Mother Ann Marie Zierke
Marian Sisters
“Kids say the darndest things.” Right? That’s what we say. But often the cute or off-handed comment can pierce through our adult world and make a profound impact.
Such was the case for me on a recent home visit. I was blessed to meet my newest niece—seven weeks old, pink and soft and cuddly. Who doesn’t love a good snuggle and a reminder of the preciousness of life? And this baby was born into a full life, already gifted with four older siblings, cousins, grandparents, and a convent full of “aunts” willing to hold a baby.
Throughout the visit, each older sibling took turns making their way to my chair to have another look at their baby sister. They loved to share about their lives and hers. While filling me in on all her latest accomplishments in kindergarten, the 5-year-old’s stream of consciousness reached a pitch of excitement. At that moment, the little babe opened her eyes slightly and turned her head, as if to acknowledge her sister.
“Oh look,” I said, “she recognizes your voice.”
Looking back at me with conviction, she stated matter-of-factly, “That’s because I talked to her the whole time she was in Mama’s belly.”
She hopped off her perch on the arm of my chair and ran to join her sisters in play. I smiled at her comment, the way adults smile at kids who say cute things that we only wish were true. Sometimes the simplicity of children’s certainty is easy to overlook. But as time passed, I couldn’t seem to get what she said out of my mind.
We know there has been science showing the connection between a mother’s voice and her unborn baby. But I had always imagined this happening in quiet and intimate moments. I had trouble imagining any connection being made in the chaos of a mom and dad living their lives with four kids under the age of 7—all the talking, all the time, and sometimes intentionally directed toward their mom’s pregnant belly.
Yet her words stayed with me. I pictured myself there, in a place of darkness, yet one necessary for growth. And slowly, what once seemed like a cute comment began to reveal a deeper truth.
Not necessarily a physical truth but a spiritual one. We have all been in a place of darkness where nothing is clear and everything feels muffled. For myself, this darkness has often been self-inflicted by sin, separation, or my own immaturity or stubbornness.
I remember during the discernment of my vocation, longing to hear God’s voice. I asked for clarity, a sign, a message written in the sky would have been helpful. I questioned if He would even speak to someone like me. Why did things seem so unclear?
Then days, weeks and months later came what I can only describe as a moment of grace. He spoke, and I recognized His voice. Not because of its booming volume or perfect clarity, but because of its familiarity. It was familiar because He had been speaking to me all along, in the quiet darkness of my spiritual infancy. During prayer, a small whisper of love affirmed what I sensed He was asking of me.
I prayed, “Just tell me what to do.”
His response was simple: “You are mine.”
Years later, I am still caught off guard in moments of desolation or doubt, when I question if I am able to hear His voice. At times when the voices of the world are loud, something small—a Scripture passage, a song, a quiet moment—breaks through. And I recognize it. Much like Elijah in the Old Testament, looking for the Lord and finding Him in a “still small voice.” Not because it is loud, but because it is familiar. It is His grace, whispering love and mercy into my dark and cloudy world.
The more often this happens, the more confident I become that God knows me even when I have trouble hearing Him. Like sheep following the Good Shepherd, we hear His voice and follow it. His voice has been there all along, forming something within us, even when we are unaware.
Because like a 5-year-old once told me, He “was talking to me the whole time.”
If you don’t have a little child in your life to remind you of these truths, let me offer this encouragement: be patient. Make silence a real part of your life. Seek moments of beauty—in song, in art, in nature, and in prayer. Over time, you may begin to recognize He was there all along.
Not because God has suddenly started speaking, but because you have begun to recognize His voice.
