I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was a little girl. Looking back, I realize it was the first time I “just knew” something. Standing under my grandma’s painting of the last supper in her kitchen, I suddenly had that feeling of realizing deep in my bones that I was meant to be a writer.  The knowing came on suddenly and has both haunted and guided me all of my life.

I say haunted because my calling to write has always been a puzzle to me. It wouldn’t go away, but would never tell me exactly what to do with it. My calling has simmered in the background of my life, followed me like a stranger. It’s kept me humble, open me to possibilities and challenged me to live by faith.

Even though I have expressed myself through writing in many ways over the years and even been published and made somewhat of an impact with my words, my writing life has never really fleshed out the way I imagined it should since the inner directive was so strong. That same knowing tells me there’s something more to my calling as a writer that I need to discover.

When I sent my youngest son off to kindergarten, I finally found the time and energy to dig deep into expressing myself through words. I found myself writing spiritual poetry and sharing it here on Unite in Prayer, gaining clarity on how I can share faith in a unifying way that promotes inner healing and my passion for social justice.

It was a joy and delight to express what had been simmering in my heart for so long as I cultivated a deeply spiritual approach to life over the years. It was also a challenge to surrender into the creative process not knowing where it would lead me. I was uncomfortable writing poetry because I didn’t think it was very practical and wondered anyone would ever read it, but that feeling I’d learned to associate as an internal directive from God was so strong! I took courage from my faith and continued following my calling to write through the uncertainty, considering my work “contemplative prayer on paper” and justifying all prayer as being constructive in and of itself, whether or not anyone cares what I have to say.

Then, I had another baby!

To be clear: Celia was no accident. If there is one thing I have learned in my life is to follow that calling, that nudge, those angel whispers even when they don’t make any sense. God speaks in the stillness of our hearts. In that place of prayerful interior connection with Spirit, I swear I could sense my daughter calling, me from the other side, so we decided to stay open in case another child was meant to enter our family even though we were getting older and by worldly standards “should” be moving into a different phase of life.

Three weeks after turning 40, I lost much of the time I had set aside to write and gained something so much more precious … a daughter to cherish and love forever. As I dive back into a sea of diapers and sleep deprivation, while also parenting three school-aged boys, I am busier than ever and unsure of how my calling to write will progress.

Sometimes I wonder why am I not more frustrated by this – shouldn’t I want to go full throttle into my next phase of life creating business as a writer, coach and advocate for refugees like I planned? Shouldn’t I feel ‘held back’ from my goals by all the time and energy I pour into my family? The truth is, I am squeezing writing and social justice work into nap-times and cracks in our busy schedule like I always have, and I feel a deep sense of peace with that being enough.

Like they have so many times in my life, a mystical poet had the answers for me that affirmed what God is speaking deep into my heart and soul about where I’m at in life. I came across this poem by Emily Dickinson and had ah aha moment. THIS! IS what I’m feeling: