Chapter 2: The Questions

Noah lay in bed that night, his little body curled up under the soft, warm blanket. The room around him was dark and quiet, only the faint glow of the streetlight outside slipping through the thin curtains. The night had settled into silence, except for the occasional creak of the house settling. The sounds of his parents' voices had long since faded away, and his siblings were asleep in their rooms. But Noah couldn't sleep—not tonight.

The words the voice had said filled his mind over and over. He couldn't make sense of them, no matter how hard he tried. His small fingers twisted and turned in the blanket, the fabric soft under his hands, but it didn't comfort him as much as it usually did. He kept thinking about the voice, about the presence that had surrounded him in church.

"I am the way, the truth, and the life."

The words seemed so simple, yet they carried a weight he couldn't understand. Why had the voice chosen him? What did it mean? He was just a little boy, too young to understand anything important. Or so he thought.

He squeezed his stuffed bear, clutching it close to his chest. His heart beat a little faster now, the quiet of the night amplifying every little noise in his room—the hum of the refrigerator downstairs, the faint rustling of leaves against the window, and even his own breathing, which felt too loud in the stillness.

"Who are you?" Noah whispered, his voice barely audible. He didn't know why he was asking, but it felt like something he needed to do. Maybe the voice would hear him and answer. He had so many questions, questions that swirled in his mind like a whirlwind. What did the voice mean by "the way"? Was there really a path? And what was "the truth" and "the life"? Why did he feel like this was all so important?

He waited in the dark, his blue eyes wide with uncertainty. The seconds stretched on forever, the room thick with silence. The clock on his nightstand ticked, every sound echoing louder in the quiet. Noah stared at the ceiling, hoping for a sign, for something, anything, to help him understand.

The moments passed, and just as he thought maybe it had been a dream, just as he was about to close his eyes in confusion, it happened. That presence—the one he had felt before, so gentle, so familiar—filled the room again. It was like a soft breeze on a warm day, invisible but so real, wrapping around him in a way that made his heart feel full, like the love of someone who would never leave.

"You are not alone," the voice whispered.

Noah's breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded harder now, both with fear and wonder. "Who are you?" he asked again, this time louder, his voice almost shaky with the deep need for an answer. He felt small, his eyes wide, staring into the dark as if the answer could be hiding there.

For a moment, there was only the sound of his own breathing. And then, the voice returned, calm and reassuring.

"I am the way, the truth, and the life."

Noah's eyes widened, and he sat up in bed, clutching his stuffed bear so tightly that it almost slipped from his hands. His heart raced. He felt an urge to ask more, to understand. "What does that mean? What does it all mean?" His words tumbled out before he could stop them, his voice full of confusion. He wanted to understand, wanted the voice to explain everything, to help him make sense of the words that filled him with so much wonder.

There was a long pause, and Noah held his breath. Was the voice going to answer? Or would it disappear, leaving him with more questions than he had before?

Then, just as he feared the voice might be gone, it returned, softer this time, almost like a gentle hug. "It means I am the one who will show you the path. I will always guide you, even when you cannot see where you are going. You may not always understand, but I am here. Trust me, and you will find the truth that leads to life."

Noah's heart skipped a beat. He wasn't sure what it all meant, but somehow, the voice made him feel like he was a part of something bigger than himself. The way the words were spoken, like promises, like something deep and important—it made Noah feel safe. He didn't have to understand everything right away. He didn't have to have all the answers.

The room felt warmer, the night seemed a little less dark. He lay back down, his hands still holding his bear, and though the questions still swirled in his mind, he felt a peace he hadn't felt before. The voice had spoken to him. And somehow, he knew that as long as he trusted, as long as he listened, he would find the answers—eventually.

Noah closed his eyes, his mind at ease for the first time since the voice had first spoken. The room felt full of love, full of hope, full of something he didn't yet understand but knew was important. He felt safe. He felt loved. And somehow, in the quiet of the night, Noah knew that he was exactly where he was meant to be.