The Question of the Still, Small Voice....

I am not a strong person - I am actually quite weak. There are times and places in life when frailty is good, when you watch the leaves of fall quietly surrender and in their genteel nature flutter softly to the ground. When you see the tears creep in the corners of a father's eyes as his little girl dances her first ballet recital. The weakness in the shaking hand that finally extends itself towards the awaiting embrace of help. These are good weakness.

Then there is weakness that hurts more than offers beauty or healing. It is this weakness that I see in myself - the weakness of a bulimic who fights, kicking and screaming not to become the girl she was 5 years ago, because if she does she knows she may never come back the same way again. The weakness of the shackled man who has bound his entire body with the power of money and greed. The weakness of the proud who hold their heads so high they are completely unable to see those they trample upon.

It is because of these (and many more) weaknesses that I have felt the need to flee, always consoling myself that if I find a way to live away from home, I too can live away from these weakness. If I dedicate myself to another country I can avoid the traps I fall into here. And I am willing to go! I will go! Take me!

And yet...I have been plagued with the soft prodding of this question: What if you are called to North America?

WHAT! Surely I am not called here, there are countless reasons why I am not called to be here. I am willing to go - Now, I do not think everyone is called to live in another country, but I do think think there are many people living in this country who should be answer their soft prodding question of, What if you are called to Pakistan? India? Russia? Japan? Guatemala? And I wonder to myself I am willing to go...why would I be called here and why would I stay if people who are called there and are not willing to go....

And yet I wrestle with the soft persistence of that question.

Please do not automatically assume, because of this post I will not fulfill what I have committed to for this next portion of my life - I am just.... I am just wondering. And praying.

And hoping that you, the few who are reading this will open the ears of your heart and begin struggle with the very question that the still, small voice may be asking of you ....

Happiness is like a butterfly which, when pursued,is always beyond our grasp, but, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you.

Nathaniel Hawthorne

(Cheezy? Perhpas. Hallmark Material? I suppose....but Mr. Hawthorne is an intelligent wordsmith like no other...)