I struggled in my car seat, trying see out of the car window. I cocked my head as a voice whispered into my ear. I frowned, trying out the idea on my own tongue. My mother started, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.

“Honey, who told you that?” she asked. The words weren’t derogatory, or dirty. In fact, they were quite beautiful and it seemed odd, even a little impossible that such a small child should be able to express such a deep thought.

“God,” I answered simply, thinking nothing of it. I went back to looking out of the window.

My mom nearly floored it. I whimpered a bit at the jerk of the car.

“Who? Who did you say, honey?”

“God. God told me.”

My mother couldn’t understand it. I was a child of about three and here I was talking to God. I didn’t even know who God was at that moment, much less understand what exactly this idea meant.

Don’t kids just say the darndest things?