Aunt Randie

Grandma called Prince over to the computer, I want you to meet your Grandpa.

To Be Continued... the story is still beautifully developing, writing itself day by day.

The Walkie Talkie Dream

That night, the little Prince drifted off to sleep with one specific wish on his mind. He had seen some kids playing with walkie talkies earlier that day, and he thought about how fun it would be to have a pair of his own to talk to his friends. I would really love to have some walkie talkies, he thought as his heavy eyes finally closed.

Deep in his dreams, the quiet night was suddenly interrupted by a soft crackle of static.

"Breaker, breaker. Hello? I'm trying to break through to my nephew!"

Just like that, the space filled with a warm, golden light and Aunt Randie appeared, holding a bright, shiny walkie talkie up to her mouth. The Prince looked down at his own hands and realized he was holding the matching one! They immediately started going back and forth, laughing and pressing the buttons on the side to talk.

"I came to give you a special message today, sweet boy," Aunt Randie’s voice crackled happily through the little speaker. "I want you to always remember that it is absolutely okay to be brilliant and to shine. Your dad, MJ, was outstanding even when he was a little child. Do you want to know why? MJ truly loves God, and God gives special attention to those who love for pure reasons. Over."

The Prince pressed the button on his side. "What are pure reasons, Aunt Randie? Over."

"Well, think about it like this," she replied. "You know how you really wanted these walkie talkies? If I told you, 'I will only give you the walkie talkies if you do my chores for a month,' that is an example of a reason that is not so pure. It comes with a catch. Over."

The Prince thought about that for a second. He held down his button. "Oh! So, if you just give me the walkie talkies simply because you want me to be happy... that’s a pure reason? Over."

Aunt Randie beamed with the absolute brightest smile. "You got it, Prince!"

And just like that, with a final crackle of static, Aunt Randie was gone.

The next morning, the sun peeked through the window. The Prince woke up, rubbed his sleepy eyes, and sat up in bed. Sitting right there on his nightstand, waiting for him, was a beautifully wrapped present.

Can you guess what was inside?

The children's section of the library was a colorful playground of endless wonder. The little Prince running excitedly from one station to the next, stacking giant foam blocks, spinning the interactive globes, and pulling brightly colored books from the perfectly sized shelves. He was having the absolute best time, giggling as he bounced from a cozy reading tent to the computer station. When he finally spun around to hand a book to the librarian, he stopped right in his tracks.

Sitting behind the big wooden desk, wearing a bright, beautiful smile, was Aunt Randie.

She pulled a familiar-looking book from the stack in front of her. The cover read Hit It Boys.

"I sure hope your Grandma finishes the next book in this series, and all the other books she's got inside her," Aunt Randie said, her voice singing with warmth. "I think one of them was even called An Alarm Clock Goes Off. Your grandmother really is a wonderful writer."

She stepped out from behind the desk, walking with him as he happily wandered over to a giant floor puzzle. 

"She has so much wisdom in that head of hers," Aunt Randie continued, handing him a puzzle piece. "You know, nephew, when I was growing up, I was feeling all kinds of big, frustrated feelings inside. My heart was confused, and I didn't know how to let it out without getting into trouble. But your Grandma sat down right beside me and taught me how to journal. She showed me how to take all that heavy, tangled-up confusion and pour it out safely onto a blank page. Because of her, I fell completely in love with words."

As the Prince crawled playfully through a bright yellow reading tunnel, Aunt Randie walked right alongside it. "I want to tell you about one very special paper that came from our love of words and stories. I remember when I turned that paper in at school, my teacher was so blown away that she gave me the highest grade in the class! She even held it up as an example for everyone else to learn from. We titled that paper 'The Permission to Question.'

She knelt down at the end of the tunnel to meet him face-to-face. "A lot of people will try to tell you, 'Shh! Don't you ever get mad, don't you dare be impatient, and don't you ever question God.' They think God is like a fragile tyrant who gets angry the second you have a bad day. But that’s not true at all my Prince!"

"Think about the great heroes, nephew. Look at Jonah. He got so frustrated and was so done with trying to understand the plan that he ran away, eventually finding himself completely isolated in the belly of a giant fish! Sometimes, sweet boy, it takes a whale of a moment for us to finally stop, sit in the quiet, and ask God to help us understand.

"And then there is Job. Job was a faithful, blameless man, but he was hurting. He sat right in the dust and was completely real about his frustrations, his questions, and his suffering. He didn't hide his pain; he brought it all to the light and let God walk him right through a beautiful #feeldealheal process. And you know what? In Job’s story, it took a brave young person to step up and tell the older folks like it is! Sometimes it takes a bright young mind—just like yours—to remind grown-ups that it is absolutely okay to ask why.

"For both of these men, those big miracles made it crystal clear that God had been standing right there with them all along, no matter how lonely it seemed. Because they were brave enough to ask the hard questions and be completely honest, they got to know God in a deeply personal way. They didn't just have a relationship, nephew—they had a REALationship.

Talking to God about your real, messy feelings isn't being bad—it is exactly how you build a REALationship.

"When you are honest about your confusion, you are talking, you are listening, and you are staying close. God is plenty big and plenty strong enough to handle all your questions, your tears, and your truth. God can take it, and God will always meet you right where you are. And don't forget to tell God about your joys!"

Aunt Randie stood up and laughed a warm, musical laugh, gesturing to the rows of books. "You know, usually people tell you to be quiet in a library. But in this special library, you can run, you can talk, and you can even be loud! Wait a minute... I think there are some special skates for you over there. Let's go skating, nephew!"

The Prince gasped with delight, lacing up a pair of magical, glowing roller skates. Together, they zoomed and twirled down the wide, carpeted aisles of the library, spinning past the bookshelves with pure joy.

As they glided in a wide circle, Aunt Randie smiled brightly at him. "You know, nephew, you'll see God in everything. The birds, the bees, the flowers, and trees. God is in you and in me. God is simply EVERYTHING!"

She lit up, glowing with a brilliant, joyful light. She took one final, beautiful spin on her skates and gracefully transcended right into the sparkling air.

The Prince let out a loud, joyous belly laugh that echoed through the library.

In the waking world, his Momma heard the happy sound and hurried into his bedroom to see what he was laughing about. She peeked over the edge of his bed, but guess what? He was fast asleep! She smiled softly, knowing exactly what was happening. He was having another dream visit with his Aunt Randie. She gently leaned down, kissed his warm cheek, and let him rest.

Click here to read Aunt Randie's complete essay: The Permission to Question

*Note: In these stories, the name "God" may be interchanged with the Most High, the Creator, the Divine, or the Universe. God is Spirit—infinite and completely unbound by human constructs of race, color, gender, or background. Just as the Creator is not limited by these earthly boundaries, neither are we.

The steam rising from the copper pot filled the kitchen with the warm, rich scent of cinnamon. Prince stood on a stepstool, watching Aunt Randie holding a big wooden spoon, carefully stirring a bubbling, deep-purple batch of elderberry syrup.

She opened a jar of honey. "Gotta keep it moving, Prince. Can't let it stick to the bottom. Health is wealth!" She sang patience and precision as she stirred the magic brew.

Prince wondered. "How'd you learn to make this, Aunt Randie?"

"A wise lady I met at church," Aunt Randie said, holding a fine-mesh strainer over a glass pitcher. "I noticed that during the cold, harsh winter seasons when everybody else was catching everything going around, her and her family were never sick. Always healthy. Right around that time, I was just starting my own journey into a vegan, plant-based lifestyle, stepping into whole health. She took me under her wing and shared some of her natural recipes with me. She said, 'It’s easy to make, and it’s better when you make it yourself.'"

Aunt Randie helped Prince pour the cooled liquid into the strainer, pressing down with that wooden spoon, careful to squeeze out every drop.

"I tried her recipe, and I'm glad I did," she continued, her voice taking on a quiet, grateful tone. "This was a few years before COVID ever existed or had a name. I started taking the syrup every day, making extra batches, and gifting it to family, friends, and neighbors. And guess what? Winter after winter came, and everyone was healthy. No one was getting sick anymore."

Prince looked at the glowing purple pitcher. "So it protected you?"

"God prepared us before the storm even hit," Aunt Randie said firmly, looking Prince right in the eye. "When COVID finally came around, I had personally been in rooms with plenty of people who had it—before any of us even knew what it was. But my immune system was built up and ready. God is amazing like that."

She poured a tiny sample of the warm syrup into a small ceramic spoon and handed it to Prince.

"There's a word used in technology, nephew—beta. Like a beta tester. Do you know what a beta tester is?"

Prince took the spoon, tasting the rich, sweet berry syrup. "Someone who tries something out first?"

"It takes real courage and deep faith to be a tester for God," Aunt Randie said softly.

"You have to trust God to lead you toward something new, even before you understand why you need it. God will always give you the tools you need—sometimes years in advance, sometimes right in the nick of time. God is like a ninja. Absolutely... amazing."

Prince imagined God sneaking around in a ninja suit, silently dropping off elderberries. He giggled, a warm feeling settling in his chest. God really is amazing, he thought, especially when Aunt Randie shows me real-life examples.

Before he could even finish visualizing God supplying the ingredients, Aunt Randie whipped around in a lightning-fast ninja spin right in the middle of the kitchen. She planted her feet in a solid stance, threw up her hands, and called out a sharp, joyous "Ah-ya!" And with a proud smile said: "Stay open, test the path, and when you find what works—bring it back and feed your people."

Prince lay perfectly still on his oversized bean bag, cocooned inside the living-room tent they had built earlier that evening. Grandma had promised she would sleep in there with him tonight, but first, she needed to finish some writing. 

She had peeked in moments ago to make sure he was sound asleep, but Prince knew her routine. He stayed awake because he knew Grandma was about to talk to her computer. She transcribed her book aloud to the glowing screen all the time, and he did this often—listening in secret in the dark, completely uncaught.

Grandma sat at her sleek, illuminated desk, a faded linen handkerchief clutched in her hand. Her trembling voice filled the quiet space, perfectly captured by the microphone.

"Noah built that massive boat for a very, very long time," she dictated, her voice heavy with emotion. "For over a century, building...growing trees for years and years ( it takes 30 years to get timber).  And check this, not a single neighbor believed God was actually speaking to him. They mocked him. But Noah kept on building."

"It was a suffocating burden to carry alone," she continued. "The mockery cut deep, the loneliness grew vast. Noah got discouraged. Sometimes he drank too much wine just to quiet the noise. 

Noah was falling apart. One day he was outside talking out loud to God and having a conversation that only he could hear God's response. When his sons found him like that, one was so embarrassed to see his father exposed and weak. But another son grabbed his Dad and hugged him and helped him recover with herbal teas and good conversation over fresh, organic meals."

Grandma’s voice cracked into a soft sob. "They were both right to feel and do what they did. Each learning a different lesson from the same example."

Noah was out there hammering those massive wooden beams, he was weeping, crying out to God for the strength to keep going, pleading for help to stop drinking so much  And God answered ..."

Grandma stopped immobilized temporarily by the deep pain she somehow carries lyte. The room went unnaturally still. She pressed the handkerchief against her wet cheeks, she began to take long deep breaths until her shoulders relaxed ....sweeping away the silent, ancient grief that sometimes swept over her. She was simply too emotional to finish.

Inside the tent, Prince’s brow furrowed. What, Grandma? What did God answer? He wanted the answer so badly he almost crawled out of the tent to ask, but the sound of Grandma's quiet weeping slowly lulled his exhausted mind. Prince closed his eyes, slipping away into the deep waters of sleep.

A firm, comforting hand rested on his shoulder. Aunt Randie stood beside him. Her face was radiant— "Watch, nephew," Aunt Randie said quietly, her voice smooth and grounding. "Look past the surface. Context is the tool God gives us to see the whole truth of a person."

She pointed toward a sprawling, magnificent structure. Looming high above the rich, pristine earth was the towering wooden vessel, constructed with flawless, breathtaking precision.

Prince squinted, instantly noticing something wonderfully strange. The men working on this beaut were all wearing the same crisp t-shirts, moving with a cool, rhythmic swagger as they worked the heavy wood. Among them stood a broad-shouldered man in a sweat-stained tee, swinging a heavy mallet with relentless, deliberate power.

The man wiped his brow and turned slightly, catching the warm, cinematic light. Prince gasped. He recognized that strong jawline and those solemn, determined eyes from the silver-framed black-and-white photos sitting on Grandma's bookcase.

Aunt Randie zoomed in to show the immense weight on the man's shoulders, the deep love in his calloused hands, and the shadows of the sons standing at the periphery of the great wooden ship.

Prince looked up at Aunt Randie’s glowing  face, his small voice vibrating with a sudden, dizzying wave of confusion.

"Wait... Noah looks like Grandpa?" Prince thought, his lil mind spinning as he watched the scene unfold:

 I thought he was just an 'alcoholic'? 

Why is everyone wearing orange t-shirts? 

And if Grandpa is Noah, who are the sons? 

What was he trying to save us from?

The dream swirled around him, rich with untold history and divine purpose. Aunt Randie just smiled that knowing, loving smile, leaving Prince with a million burning questions—questions that he knew, finally, were about to be answered. - 9.22 5:42 am