A Frank Voice is a blog from Cameron and Hailee Frank about faith, family, and fostering in Oklahoma City.

Thursday Mornings

I head towards my kitchen table, warm Pop-Tart in one hand, hot coffee in my favorite mug occupying my other hand. I splash a little bit of the scalding liquid on my right foot as I clumsily try and scoot the chair out from the table with my other foot, balancing hot food, hot coffee, and myself like some sort of nightmare yoga nobody ever asked for. Despite my already stressful first five minutes of consciousness, I settle in at the table and slide my Bible in front of me, organizing my spread trying to impress the dog with how together I am.


I open to my bookmark in 1 Peter and get ready to have the best quiet time ever when a small voice rings right next to me.

"What are you doing?" the tiny ninja says innocently even though she totally meant to scare me just then.

I think to myself that I have a golden opportunity to seize the moment and “train up a child in the way he (or she) should go,” so I start to explain that I'm reading my Bible, and how important that is and oh, she's talking to the dog now. Okay, that's fine, I had a great dissertation planned, but that's fine. It'll keep.

I turn back to the Word and get ready to dive in, ready for an earth-shattering revelation. Proverbs, here we go. I read a strong verse or two, then a confusing one, but that's why I have a study Bible, so I'll just check the notes and—

"What are you doing, Cameron?"

Wiping the coffee off my shirt, (why does she keep scaring me?!) I turn to her a little impatiently and tell her I'm reading my Bible. God talks to us through—

"I'm hungry," she says, ignoring my lesson. That's understandable. Kids need to eat just as often as other humans, right? I go to the pantry and grab her a Nutrigrain bar and get ready to unwrap it for her when I'm stopped again.

"I'm not hungry," she looks at me as if expecting me to explain her own confusion to her. I don't.

"I thought you said you were hungry?" I inquire.

"I am," she says like I'm a moron.

"I thought you were. Here's a Nutrigrain bar, they're good."

"Um... I'm not hungry."

"Okay, well I am. And I want to read my Bible, remember it's very impor—"

"I just want chips."

"Well, it's eight in the morning, you can't have chips. But you can have a Nutrigrain bar."

"I'm not hungry anymore."

I stare her down as I walk back to the table and settle in again. Coffee? Check. Pop-Tart? Check. Dog? Check. Instagram worthy quiet-time setup? Check. Let's do this.

Romans. Oh, this is good stuff. I could write a blog post about this passage. Where's my journal? I look around the table for it and accidentally make eye contact with the little girl sitting across from me. Big mistake.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm looking for my—"

"I'm hungry."

"Of course you are, here's a Nutrigrain bar. Please eat it. I'm legally obligated to make sure you eat that."

"What did you say?"

"Don't worry about it. Here. I'll get you some milk."

I get up to get her some milk and make sure she's all set up for success. I spill the milk trying to get the lid on the cup. I give the rest to her. She seems satisfied for the moment, so I settle back in trying to find my place. Somewhere in Lamentations, maybe?

"What are you doing?"

I sigh and look up into those infuriatingly adorable big brown eyes, "I'm—"

"Where's Haiwee?"

"She's showering, I think. She'll be—"

"I'm not hungry."

"I know. But you've taken like half a bite and it's stressing me out. Please eat more?"

"Can I watch a show?"

"Can you finish that bar, because I'm not sure what DHS will do when they find out you've lost weight."

"What are you doing?"

"Well, now it's 8:50 and I have to get ready for work. Eat please, I'll be right back."

After destroying the bedroom looking for my shoes, only to find them in the living room, I get my backpack and get ready to go. I stop by the kitchen to say bye to the little one on my way out. She ignores me.

I open the front door to leave and hear a parting word from that tiny little voice.

"What's that brown spot on your shirt?"


There's Nothing I Can Do