From “Trust the Whisper: How Answering Quiet Callings Inspires Extraordinary Stories of Ordinary Grace“ by Kathy Izard
My life plans had typically been driven by the two loudest voices in my head: my “to-do voice” and my “fear voice.” My to-do voice kept me focused on daily tasks, which included all the rational reminders like pay the mortgage, feed the dog, and meet the deadline. Even though those things kept me busy, I secretly had other ideas for my life that included wanting to do something that truly mattered. Designing logos and creating brochures was not the type of meaningful work I had envisioned for myself growing up. I even had a folder in my office labeled “Change the World,” where I kept magazine and newspaper clippings of people whom I thought were making a difference in ways both big and small. When I thought about making a change in my own life, I considered going to graduate school. But how would I do that with four kids? And besides, I had no idea what I would even study.
On days when I was particularly frustrated with my present career, I would reread articles about inspirational people, hoping to unlock the door to my own potential. But whenever I imagined how I might change the world and leave it a better place, my fear voice would interrupt my dreams to discourage any new life plan, listing all the reasons it would be impossible. That voice would drown out any new dreams by reminding me of all the ways I might fail and convincing me that I was only qualified to be what I currently was: a graphic designer.
For years, my to-do voice and my fear voice combined to keep me stuck on my very safe and logical life plan: building a good family, running a successful business, and giving back in some small ways. I was so busy with career climbing, bill paying, and child raising, I didn’t think it really mattered what my soul had to say about it. It wasn’t until I began watching my teenage daughters chase their dreams that I recognized how fully I had forgotten my own.
The nagging feeling that I had another purpose never left me, but I could not understand how to find a new direction. In retrospect, I know that is because I was looking for a great big sign with flashing lights to point me in the right direction, announcing, “This is your life purpose! Turn right here!” Maybe I believed that when I found such an obvious sign, then my to-do voice would take over and my fear wouldn’t object.
But, of course, there was never a neon sign. There was only this gentle nudge urging me to seek something else even though everything in my life was fine. Just fine. Eventually, I found what I was looking for in a much quieter way than I expected. And it began with a whisper.