After my Daddy passed away, I found myself feeling like I’d lost my compass. He was, after all, one of the two loudest voices in my life, up until that point. However, I still had my Mom and so I just learned to listen to a different compass… a quieter, softer, gentler and less bold compass. My mom was full of Godly wisdom. Slow to make big decisions, carefully weighing in on the consequences and cautiously choosing what yielded the best results for everyone involved. She wouldn’t always vocalize her opinions or give clear direction, but when she did, I valued it like gold.

Last evening, as I sat on our couch, snuggled under the blankets with our two fur babies, my heart was hurting. It still is. I miss my Mom something fierce. My heart was asking, “where’s my compass? I have no compass now!” I heard the Holy Spirit whisper, “I am your compass” I shrugged it off, because yes, He’s actually always been my compass, but my parents were my earthly compass, who’s guidance always aligned with the Word of God, so I never had to doubt their advice or direction. My heart whispered back, “what do I do when my compass has gone quiet?” You know, the audible voice we, as humans, long to hear, to comfort us when we’re hurting, to encourage us when we’re discouraged, and to guide us when we’re most lost? That compass. What do I do when that compass has gone quiet? I heard the Holy Spirit whisper, “you get quiet too.”

I admitted in my previous post “It Is Well” that I’m a “get ‘er done” girl, so resting doesn’t come easy for me. Hearing the Holy Spirit whisper something He wants from me, that is truly one of the most difficult things He could ask for… hit pretty close to home.

When we lost our business and first moved to Texas, I had these same feelings of being lost and not knowing what to do. I felt then, while still having my Mom in my life, from a distance, that God was calling me into a place of rest. It was in that season of rest, without working a job, that God provided the means for me to care full-time for my Mom during her cancer journey. Had I not obeyed, and scurried off to the next adventure or challenge, I quite possibly could have missed one of the most teaching and growing moments of my life to date. The past ten months with my Mom taught me so much about living, dying, humility, growing in Christ, resting and living one day at a time.

So, when I heard the Holy Spirit whisper, “you get quiet too”… it really put things into perspective for me. I can either fight this season God brought me to, over a year ago, or I continue to surrender to His plan and trust that He’s got my life in His hands, everything under control, and when He deems I’m ready, He’ll open the doors for the next adventure that awaits.

Because I believe in stacking stones, I’m documenting this moment by writing about it here, in this sacred space where my heart is poured out on the keys of my Surface unleashed and raw. Because that right there, that rawness, is exactly where God wants me to lay for awhile. Wide open heart, longing for Him above all else. No longer seeking an audible voice of approval or direction, but centered in on the One voice, above all other voices. The One voice Who will never let me down, never leave me, never abandon me, and never give up on me. The One voice who is tried and true. The One who created me in my mother’s womb, called me by name, and placed me here for such a time as this. I don’t know what it is He has in store for me, but my Mom told me before she passed that God has amazing things in store for me, so I look forward to seeing what that looks like.

Here’s to letting go of our tangible yet quieted compass, and getting quiet too…

Forever His,