Sometimes Its Just a Whisper

Nothing was wrong. Not really. Nothing was right either. I wasn’t depressed. I’ve been depressed and this wasn’t that. Diffuse anxiety. That’s what Marian used to call it. Golden Girl Blanche called it being “magenta” – it’s when you’re not blue exactly…

I had been trying to sort it all out—trying to understand what it was I feeling. I understood enough to know that I needed to know what “it” was before I could sort “it” out. Did I feel this way because of all the turmoil in the world? A pandemic, high unemployment, murder hornets, a contested election? No, that’s wasn’t it. I couldn’t explain it to myself any more than I can explain it to you. I was just down. And getting downer.

I woke up at 1:30am. No reason, just woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep. Now that’s not something I usually struggle with. I fall asleep watching TV. I have fallen asleep sitting in front of the computer. I snack on road trips to avoid falling asleep while driving. Same goes for going back to sleep, that’s usually pretty easy too. But not this night. I did what I do on those rare occasions that it does happen – I used the bathroom, took a couple of Excedrin, turned on a meditation CD and went to back to bed.

And I continued to lie there staring at the ceiling.

Gradually I became aware of a refrain I kept hearing in my head. “Go. Go sit outside. Now. Go.” It’s 2:00am. I’m in my pajamas. Okay. It is summer and a warm night, but still…

A few more minutes. A few more refrain repetitions.

I’m a person who believes there many things in this world that we can’t, with our little, constrained human brains, understand. Could I be about to experience one of those things? Thinking maybe, possibly, something exciting and unusual was about to happen, I got up, picked up my phone, went outside, grabbed the camp chair and settled under the overgrown plum tree.

“This year. This year I really am going to prune this poor thing.” I thought as I sat waiting. Waiting for something.

Then deciding that if I’m gonna sit here I might as well have something to look at, I moved the camp chair closer to the pasture fence. Out from under the plum tree and into the open I could look out over the pasture. It was a full moon. It was a warm clear night. There was a light breeze. It was a perfect night. I sat there.

And I sat there.

“Okay. I’m here. Now what?” I thought.

I started to feel like Linus waiting for the Great Pumpkin. Surely, I wouldn’t be disappointed.

I remembered reading about people who accidentally caught cool and amazing and sometimes spooky things in pictures. They thought they were taking a picture of a tree and when they later looked at the photo there would be a Civil War general standing next to the tree. Or orbs floating around. Maybe….

Since I was still just sitting there wondering why I was sitting there “I thought what the heck. I might as well try that.” I got my phone out of my pajama pocket (my pajamas are really sweat pants and a t-shirt) and held it up. I looked through the view finder. I panned the area, looking, hoping I would see something. Wondering what I would do if I did see something. I didn’t need to worry – there wasn’t anything unusual to see.

“Maybe you have to take a picture… Yes, that’s it!” I took several pictures. I shot a little video. Black. They were black. It was night. The full moon and my phone’s little flash provided enough light to see the brown dry pasture grass. It looked even bleaker in the pictures than it did in real life. If you looked very closely, you could see the neighbor’s porch light. But mostly it was all black. No orbs. No Civil War generals. Just night.

I still wondered why I was there. I kept waiting for something to happen. A meteor? Shooting stars? A spaceship landing in the neighbor’s field? Something. Anything.

I started to feel a little silly. But… I live in the country and I was the only one who knew I was sitting out in the pasture on a camp chair at 2:15 in the morning, still in my pajamas. William, my Border Collie and constant companion, used to my eccentricities, came to check on me. A deep sigh and a look that clearly said “I guess we’re doing this now”. He lay down. He rolled in the grass and went to sleep under that overgrown plum tree.

Jill, a vivacious visiting Australian Shepherd, thought it all too weird. She rolled in the grass. She bounded around the yard then came to stare at me. She still couldn’t suss out what we were doing or why we were doing it. She took another tour of the yard and this time found a toy. She threw it at me. I looked at it.

“Maybe the toy means something. Maybe it’s a sign.” I thought. “Maybe the Universe is trying to send me a message.” I stared at it. It was a pink worm like thing, made of fabric. The squeaker still worked. If it was a sign, I was even more confused. I put the toy back on the ground. Apparently that was an invitation. The worm again flew through the air and into my lap. I picked it up and sat on it.

I picked up the camera again. Maybe I would see something now. I aimed it at the pasture. Nope. Still nothing. I took a picture of the worm. Nope. That wasn’t it either.

I sat there contemplating my life. Thinking about where I was in life—it’s certainly not where I thought I would be at this point. All my friends, at least those who are my age or close to it, seemed settled. Their lives appeared steady. Established. Stable careers, houses paid off. Many were about to retire. I’m not any of those things. I thought about what I wanted in my life. For my life. I thought about all of the confusion I was feeling. I felt…not lost exactly, I just didn’t know where I was. I felt not unhappy, but not happy. I felt unsettled. I started talking, sometimes with the voice in my head, but mostly I said it all out loud. I laid it all out. I told whoever, whatever was listening, everything. I didn’t hold anything back. I spoke of my confusion. I spoke of the fear of an uncertain future, of disappointment in those who had lied, of the longing for those who are no longer here and of the shame and embarrassment of all my perceived failures. I spoke of the dreams held so close I was afraid to speak them out loud to anyone but William on a warm dark summer night.

When I was talked out, I sat a little while longer. William had moved closer and was now softly snoring with his head upon my foot. Jill was still trotting around, still not sure why we were there, but enjoying it anyway.

“I give up” I thought. “This was a bust.” I got up, called the dogs and went back to bed. Sleep finally came easily.

When I woke up in the morning, everything made sense. I felt content, clear and focused. I felt a direction, a purpose that I hadn’t felt in a long time. I was still a little unclear on parts of the how, but I knew the what and that was huge. I don’t know why I needed to sit in the moonlight in a pasture in the middle of the night. I don’t know who was listening. God? Creator? Jesus? Spirit? Angels? Maybe all of the above. Maybe someone else. Maybe no one. It doesn’t really matter, what matters is that I listened. I listened to the whisper that told me to go sit outside. I listened to the whisper that told me to share my thoughts and my fears and my frustrations.

I used to think messages from God came in burning bushes. I think sometimes it does. But I think more often it comes in a whisper, a soft nudge. Urging you to call someone, to take a different route, to stop and see an old friend or to pick up that magazine or turn the channel. Or sit outside in the middle of a summer night and talk to whoever is listening.

The whispers may come from God. Or maybe they come from an angel or a spirit or a loved one. I don’t know – that’s way above my pay grade. What I do know, is that when I get that nudge, I need to listen. Is it going to be a burning bush? A lamp that burns for eight days? A sea that parts? Probably not. It’s more likely going to be much more subtle.

You’ll be standing in line at the grocery store and idly pick up a magazine you’ve never seen before. There’ll be an article discussing something you’ve been worrying about. You’ll be driving home and just as you approach the feed store, a whisper reminds you’re almost out of duck food so you make a quick stop. “Hey. How’s it goin’?” You say as you pass a woman in the aisle. She looks at you and the tears begin to fall. Her horse just died and she’s sad and lost and needs someone to just listen. You stand there, you listen and you offer comfort and condolences to this woman you’ll never see again.

You’ll be worried about money, remember you need dog food, stop at the store and find that it’s on sale.

Standing in the line at the grocery store, you’re a little embarrassed and chiding yourself because you hadn’t thought to put on clean clothes after mowing the lawn and before you ran down to the store. You gradually become aware that something is happening in line in front of you. There is a man with a teenage boy and the man has just realized he forgot his wallet. He’s embarrassed. He’s frustrated. He’s late. The kid looks unsure. They weren’t buying a lot. They were buying dinner. They were supposed to bring home dinner. And now they’re late. A whisper. “Just add it to mine.” You hear yourself say. The words are out before you have time to think. “What?” The father asks. Suddenly you really feel silly because you’re dirty and you probably smell and you were hoping to run in and out without anyone noticing. And now they’re all staring at you. “I got it. Just ring it up with my stuff.” The man stares at you, his eyes welling up. “I think I might cry. I’ve done this for others, but I never thought… for me….” He looks at his son “See? I told you.” As they leave you wonder what the boy had been told and what he would remember.

Burning bushes are cool I think. I don’t really know because I’ve never seen one. But don’t dismiss the whispers while you’re looking for that bush or the lamp or the parted sea. Don’t be so busy looking for a momentous sign that you can’t hear the whisper. Listen for it and don’t dismiss it.

Sometimes the answer is shouted. Sometimes it’s whispered. Our job is to listen and be open. Sometimes the whisper is bringing you the answer. Sometimes the whisper is bringing you as the answer