In February, eleven years ago, a handful of friends and colleagues, all women, were experiencing challenging times–single parenting, work stress, and life transitions. I chose a quote, wrote a three-sentence meditation and emailed it to them as a way to demonstrate intentional support and lovingkindness.
Over the years, the list of followers grew and the emails became a source of conversation and “aha” moments and reassurance. It was both humbling and inspiring to hear the stories from women about how the words had impacted their day.
As I moved forward into creating a blog (anyone remember “Blogger?!”) then a website, I began to rely less on the quotes of others and listen more to the quiet voice within myself. Sadly, I had stopped doing so long ago because of other voices who bullied or berated or belittled.
When I reflect on that, I liken it to the children and the jingle bell in the The Polar Express. I could no longer hear the “bell” because I no longer believed in my own voice.
I can’t put my finger on one particular moment or person who helped me believe again. Maybe it was the minister who mentored my call to service. And perhaps it includes the adult friends who value me for me. I’m also certain that family support, and time, and therapy, and spiritual direction helped me trust again. But most importantly, it was the courage I found to begin listening to my own voice, writing from my own experience, and trusting the movement of the Spirit.
So here I sit on this rainy, chilly February morning eleven years later to the day when I dared to believe that my words were enough. Enough to comfort, to heal, to support. I celebrate that gift as a very meaningful part of my life.
I thank each of you, active readers and those who’ve journeyed on. People whose voices are known and unknown. Thank you for your time and your willingness to listen, your feedback and your prayers. I extend to you a heart filled with gratitude for supporting this sacred space and helping me listen to my voice again.
Peace to you on this day.