I don’t know if I should call my experience of these last two plus months hard or precious, unnecessary or inevitable, lessons or blessings, or all of the above.

When I think back and consider the circumstances, and explore the when, what, how, why, and where of this period in time, ultimately I arrive at the conclusion that they were both precious and hard, that they became necessary when they became inevitable, and they have emerged as lessons and blessings taught by the Still Small Voice In The Fire.

There is a part of me that wants to skirt around the question and just begin somewhere in the middle with the answer. However, I know that is cowardly and very ego driven and will not convey the truth that is called forth. If and as I honor what God has given me, and if and as I am to remain in line with the principles that I have founded and designed Hormones and High Heels on, which are authenticity, honesty, courageousness, then shame and fear be damned.

The truth is, I did not have to be here and that is a hard, inevitable, lesson that I know with every fiber of my being. I am here, In The Fire, because I didn’t listen to the Still Small Voice that would have kept me from this reality. And what I have learned by this is that in life, there are no do overs and that the choices we make have natural outcomes that may be overcome, but still have lifelong ramifications. In this instance I know that I may heal from this injury, I’m praying I will, and I am doing the work for it to be so, but I will not ever be absent of this injury and what it has cost, and its being a part of my life’s journey. I am here, in this place, In The Fire, not as a punishment but as a result of my not listening to the direction of the Still Small Voice. I ignored it perhaps because it was Still and Small or maybe because its message was very simplistic and seemingly inconsequential. The Voice didn’t come to me with a dramatic and cinematic deep rich bass sound. It didn’t crack open the skies with the boom of thunder and lightening, stopping me in my tracks. It also did not make an appearance while I was in my secret closet, steeped in meditation and prayer. But it got my attention while I was in stride, in the presence of my unknowing need, speaking to me like a smooth melody of sweet memories or easy listening. And generally, just like with that good ole soul music, you hear it, and respond to it in by singing, dancing, humming, or bopping to it, and can still do what you were doing. I heard it just like that, but I ignored, or poo pooed its urging by assigning my own definition to it presence. Not purposefully or because I was being sassy, but nevertheless, I did not heed the Voice. I was feeling so good and confident, that I forgot to listen.

What was the message? It really doesn’t matter. Because I would much rather use this space and your time to share the wisdom that I gained from the experience.

By grace, we all have been endowed with intuition, gifted with instinct, and blessed with the capacity for communion with the Still Small Voice. Intuition is that gut. Instinct is that sense or scent. And the Still Small Voice is God speaking in urgency and immediacy for both positive and negative reasons, to prevent or encourage, but always, always, always, for our benefit and towards our good. I know it and I knew it, and yet, I still plummeted into the fire.

But while I have been here, the Still Small Voice has continued to be kind and loving. It has not blamed or shaken its proverbial head, nor wagged its finger at me. That beautiful and sweet voice has spoken compassion to me as it beckons me towards my healing. It has encouraged me to hold my head up and push through when the pain was so excruciating that all I wanted to do was give up and go somewhere outside of myself and never return. It sang sweet songs of hope and redemption to my ears when all I could hear was the sounds of my own heartbreaking wailing. The Still Small Voice implored me to keep my mind focused on engaging the people and services needed to assist in bringing me through the fire. It has shushed and shooed away the negative thoughts, feelings, and personal recriminations that have sought to overtake me. It spoke courage to me when cowardice rang out it’s prominence within my spirit. It has blessed and soothed me as it daily ushers me closer to my final emergence from being In The Fire.

It reminds/ed me that God has kept me to save me and has saved me to keep me. It has quoted the scripture to me “Weeping endureth for a night, but joy, Oh Sweet Joy, cometh in the morning”. It has taught me that The Lord Is My Shepherd, in and out of the fire. It has pronounced its priestly love over me, “Saying amen, blessing, glory, wisdom, thanksgiving, honor, power, and might” be unto my God who has the power to cool the flame and deliver me out of the jaws of the fire, wholly and unsinged.

So, inadequately so, I am thankful, grateful, appreciative, and happy for and to the Still Small Voice that has whispered, roared, sang, and proclaimed its Sacred and Divine Ownership of, over, and into me while I have been engulfed In The Fire. Never wavering. Never abandoning. Always kind. Always present.

And that is my wisdom.