david and nathan

Twice this past week I ran into people from church at the gym. I didn't know or recognize either of them, but that's the strangeness of being up in front of a large congregation every week. This is compounded by the same situation at work as well. So every week I'm in front of a couple thousand people whose faces are members of a body of faces. People speak to me in stores, restaurants, at the gas station, at the kids' schools, nearly everywhere I go. Fish bowl man.
The first encounter last week completely bogarted my workout. I had done abs and went to the pull up bar when I was stopped. The conversation went on until we were run out of the gym because they closed.
The second encounter lasted less than a minute. A man came up to me while I rested between sets. He told me who I was and introduced himself. Then he went on to say, "I really enjoy and appreciate what you do every week, you have a wonderful voice when you speak to us."
Now only a few of you reading this will know the significance of that statement. But at this point in my life, I'll hear every subtle whisper of Spirit-brought encouragement in the midst of what he's been impressing so strongly upon me lately through the voice of the owls, my own daughter, etc.
Every week, people stroke my guitar, my singing, the songs; but it's not often that they speak of the voice that speaks. I revisited all the thoughts I had when Molly told me my voice was one of the pretty things about me. I thought about what I'd blogged in response to that, that the voice of truth can be beautiful to some and frightening to others. I thought often through the weekend at how timely this particular encouragement was. I thought about wondering if the scary owl was speaking to me, or telling me to speak. Then...
This morning after church, a boy with autism, who had spent the day at our house last week while his mom carried out duties, but who had not spoken to me all day, walked up to me, looked me straight in the eye and said, "I'm sorry." I looked at him and waited for a more detailed context, but it didn't immediately come, so I thought that it was just some disconnected thought that happened to be verbalized while I was present. So I said something to the effect, "Well I'm sure you don't need to be sorry, what are you sorry for?" He stood there for what seemed like a LOT longer and finally said, "I'm sorry I was afraid of you." Then he smiled from ear to ear and walked away. He turned around as he walked and kept smiling.
I thought of the unfathomable unlikelihood of the voices that are chosen to speak the message, and how even more unlikely are the voices that are chosen to speak to those who are to speak.
The man at the gym was named David and the boy after church was named Nathan.
God's got a serious sense of humor.