Run Toward the Music
“Santa Fe Trail Sunrise” - photo by Elizabeth Watkins
“Now faith is confidence in what we hope for
and assurance about what we cannot see.”
Heberews 11:1
“Mom, can Kennedy, Gracie, and I get some ice cream from the ice cream truck?” The request came from my daughter, Charis. My daughter rarely approaches me with questions or favors, so anytime she asks for something I try to take her seriously. This time, though, I felt a bit put off by her suggestion.
“I just finished preparing dinner, so I don’t really want you eating ice cream right before supper,” I started. “Plus, do you even know where the ice cream truck is?” I didn’t mention my general distrust of ice cream trucks. They remind me of the evil kidnapper from the Disney movie Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.
“We heard an ice cream truck while we were playing, and we think it’s in the neighborhood across the open space,” Charis continued, not the least bit deterred by my excuses.
“You heard it in that neighborhood?” I raised my eyebrows in disbelief. That neighborhood was over a half mile away, past an expansive open space and pond. Sounds travel obscurely through the valley, distorting accurate distance.
“Sweetie, that neighborhood is kind of far away, and I don’t want you going over there by yourselves.” Charis doesn’t challenge authority, so I figured my answer would shut down any further conversation. Still, she persisted.
“I thought you could come with us,” Charis suggested matter of factly.“We can just follow the sound and find it!” She finished her statement with a smile.
If only it were that simple, I thought. My stomach rumbled, reminding me of how much I just wanted to sit down and eat dinner - not start a wild goose chase after an ice cream truck! I paused before answering. Charis’s smile started to fade, and she started to turn away.
“I wish Dad were here,” she mumbled under her breath.
Well, that did it!
“Okay,” I consented. “I will go with you!” Delight returned to Charis’s eyes, so I continued to explain myself. “On the condition that we’ll walk across the open space to the neighborhood’s first street. If we don’t find the truck, we’re returning home.” Charis nodded in agreement and rushed out of the house to gather her friends.
The girls led the way with great enthusiasm, guessing wildly at the truck’s location!
“It’s somewhere over there," said Kennedy, making a broad sweeping motion with her hands. The gesture encompassed several square miles. Despite their lack of knowledge, the three girls ran joyfully through the open space until we reached the neighborhood on the other side. Then they stopped and listened.
“Do you hear it?” I asked.
“Oh yes!” Kennedy nodded enthusiastically.
“I can hear it too,” Charis agreed. Gracie cocked her head thoughtfully yet did not concur. I stood silently - listening. Birds chirped loudly, yet I did not hear the slightest twinkle of music. Not a single note.
“Let’s go closer to the neighborhood,” Kennedy suggested, and the three girls started walking toward the nearest street. I followed slowly behind them, still straining to hear something. Anything.
Ahead of me the girls once again stopped and listened. When I caught up to them, Kennedy said, “I hear it over there now.” She pointed in the opposite direction.
“Let’s walk over there, Mom,” Charis commented, tilting her head toward Kennedy’s suggestion.
“Girls, that’s another mile walk,” I said. “By the time we get there, the truck won’t even be there anymore.” My patience was wearing thin. I didn’t add that I still had yet to hear the music.
“Let’s stay here for several more minutes,” I stated. “If we don’t hear anything soon, we’ll return home.” We waited. But still, silence. So we eventually turned around and headed back toward home. I led the way this time.
“Mom,” Charis voiced from behind me, “What if we hear the truck while we’re walking home?”
I turned and faced the girls. Their faces still beamed with smiles, and something about their hopeful expectation stirred me.“Girls,” I said, “if that truck comes back, then you turn around and run as fast as you can toward the music.”
“Okay!” The girls giggled. “We will!”
Several moments later, like a miracle, the familiar melody twinkled through the air. From behind me, the girls shrieked with delight, spun around, and took off running. I couldn’t believe my ears. The truck came back? I watched the girls recklessly sprint uphill toward the sound.
Sure enough, there it was. A real ice cream truck, driven not by a villain, but by two women in a spotless van with smiling faces. As the girls excitedly placed their orders, I realized that I hadn’t brought any cash. Yet Charis’s dear girlfriends shared theirs generously. They got their ice cream after all! Soon we began our leisurely walk back home, the girls joyfully chatting and licking their treats. Once again I brought up the rear, this time quietly contemplating.
What struck me most wasn’t the ice cream. It was the girls’ faith. So childlike. So simple. So profound.
They heard music in the distance and believed they’d find ice cream - even when they could not see the truck. Even when I couldn’t hear the music. I had quickly given up and turned around - unwilling to wait, to hope, to believe. They had followed what they believed to be true- and it was.
Isn’t that what faith really is? Hebrews 11:1 says, “Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and the assurance about what we do not see.” Maybe that’s why Jesus was so quick to commend the faith of children. Don’t kids take you at your word and accept it as truth, even if they don’t comprehend all the details?
As I finish up the summer, I’m facing many situations that look quite bleak. Maybe you are too. Yet, Charis’s ice cream moment is helping me tweak my perspective. I’m choosing to pause and listen. I encourage you to do the same. And when we hear the faintest melody of possibility, let’s run with reckless abandon toward the music.