Someone asked me why I refer to the nudges, answered prayers, and musings of life as whispers. Was it because you had to strain to hear? No, not strain. But you do have to listen and notice.

Saturday I danced with a potential heat stroke. I danced because I wasn’t listening. This morning I went out to feed the birds. I could have gotten lost in the texture and gratitude for the most delicious cool morning breeze dancing around my body. I could have gotten lost in the joyful dance of the pigeons whirling around me as I stepped outside. Though I savored both, I heard the whisper and looked down at my feet on the door step. A tattered white feather. Had I missed it, either the delectable breeze or the rush of wind from the pigeon wings would have sent it flying on its own. I put the feather in my shirt pocket and gave thanks. By the end of the day, that little feather became the umbilical cord uniting and nurturing my heart and brain. Indeed, it became a life preserver.

The point is, we are always in a dance. Like any dance floor it can be crowded, noisy, and chaotic. It can be elegant, sensual, and pulsate with life and grace. You may have another word, but whispers fits my heart. Whispers don’t compete with the dance. They don’t have to…. they are the dance. The dance floor and music can be our choice or life may just slide us onto one we would rather avoid. Either way, we become part of the dance. The whispers are there either way. We just have to listen and notice. When we do, we will find the elegance, the umbilical cord and life preserver. And that, oh that moment, is when the dance is whispered grace.