Sometimes, I wish I could just pick up the phone and call my mom. She died ten years ago; and even though we didn’t talk on the phone every day, or even every week, there are times now when I wish I could simply talk with her again. To hear her voice. Or tell her about my kids, who are now young adults; she’d be so proud and delighted. Or to ask her how she made the potato salad taste just right.

Happy Mother’s Day! This week I found myself thinking of all the ways my mother has poured wisdom into me, helped me to understand the world in new ways, and equipped me for life. Before my mother taught me to read, she would read stories to me, and sing songs that taught me important lessons about faith, community, and how to live well. She taught me that the best stories always teach us a lesson, they speak truth to our hearts, and send us out into the world changed.

Jesus tells them that they know the way to the place he is going. Befuddled Thomas says what everyone is thinking. Lord, we have no idea where you are going. How can we possibly know the way?

Whose voice do you recognize easily? There are a few voices of public figures that I try to tune out and not listen to at all, because their voice grates on me and I don’t want to listen to what they have to say. But there are also voices I love hearing, like my kids’ when they call me from college. And there are some voices I miss hearing too. I wish I had a recording of my son, Oliver's sweet, high-pitched, prepubescent voice or the voices of my parents which are now only a distant memory.