Loretta Johnson (@pinkgems)

On the trail yesterday, the morning felt unusually quiet; the kind of quiet that makes you stop and pay attention. The air was humid and still, almost like even creation was holding its breath. I became very aware that I was out there alone… just me, the chipmunks, and a couple of groundhogs slipping through the brush. Even the birds weren’t as busy. It felt like they were watching the same stillness I was. As I walked toward the lake, the silence shifted. I started hearing children’s laughter; but in a new way. Not just noise, not just “kids at the lake,” but something pure, something joyful, something that reached deeper than usual. It reminded me of that verse in the Bible: “They have ears but hear not; eyes have they, but see not.” (Psalm 115:6) For the first time, I felt like I was truly hearing, not with my ears, but with my spirit. Their squeals and laughter weren’t just sounds; they were joy, innocence, and life echoing across the water. I’ve always loved the sound of children laughing and playing, but it usually came with the practical thoughts the work, the watching, the responsibility. But yesterday it was different. Yesterday, it felt like God opened something in me so I could hear the beauty without the burden. Sometimes the trail whispers. And sometimes, it sings. Come walk with me!