“What are you doing here…?”

I’ve been waiting to hear the “still small voice” or the “gentle whisper” of God lately. But all I seem to hear are the loud passions of women whose hearts have been stirred to do something. That something is different for each of them. And I find myself wanting to protect these fierce women from their somethings…

Why?

I’ve been in transition mode these past few months from my something. That something has been my every waking and sleeping moment of the past 10 years of my life. It’s why I got out of bed and it’s why I stayed in bed. It has simultaneously filled me and drained me, broken me and made me whole. I have run towards it and away from it. I have believed in it and doubted it. I’ve cried, laughed and danced through it. I’ve been burdened and blessed by it. I’ve prayed for it and against it. My world expanded from it and my life got smaller from it. It was radically life changing. It was beautiful and ugly and sweet and bitter. It drew me closer to the center of dependence. It pushed me to rely more on God and less on me…most days. It saved me, cost me and healed me…again and again. And now I stand at the end of my something and wait. I wait for God’s voice to lead me, to fuel me, to quench my thirst for more of something…for more of me, more of Him, more of rest, more of service, more of stillness, more of the hushed beauty that I’ve missed.

And then I ask myself, why would I want to protect others from such uncultured, heart stopping, breathtaking, paradoxical, foolish joys. Because one of those women is my daughter, and I’m selfish… and I want to protect her.

And yet I want her to know the depths that God has taken me to, because it’s there in the deep we find irrational love that is enough. And that enough is what grows to become the something that stirs our hearts and gives us the courage to answer His call.

So I will try to let go of my unease and listen for His whisper through the thunderous passions of these beautiful, daring women as they bring to life their somethings.

And I will be there for my daughter with unconditional love and support and perhaps an under the breath, hardly audible "I told you so baby, I told you so..."

And it will be good.