Hearing Voices

On Monday, I was privileged to have the opportunity to meet internationally-recognized speaker Johnnette Benkovic at a feminism conference in town.

She referenced St. Francis deSales several times, specifically his Introduction to the Devout Life, which says that God speaks in that silence at the bottom of our hearts.

I'm not going to lie -- I've been reckless lately. There's been things coming out of my head and mouth that haven't done so since before my reversion three years ago. That spooked me, and needless to say I've been showing my face at the confessional a lot these days.

Yet, last night, as I was seconds from cutting that rope that ties me to Christ yet again, a voice resounded loud and clear at the bottom of my heart, so much so that it actually spilled out verbally.

NO!

...Excuse me? I'm trying very hard to forget my problems, enjoying that fact, and I end up crying "NO!" in the midst of it?

Stopped me in my tracks, that did. The still, small voice of God that was planted in my soul at baptism, sealed in Confirmation and is brought to fruition at every Eucharist is sometimes, to my shock, louder than my very will. And trust me, I'm Italian; I know plenty about strong wills.

That one moment has been enough to inspire me today. Three years ago, I didn't know how to hear that voice. Two years ago, i wasn't sure how to yield to it. It was in that first 18 months as a Catholic, when I went head to head and will to will with my old confessor (also Italian!), that I as truly formed and learned to respond to my conscience.

Now, miraculously, it seems that the grace of God is finally inspiring me to listen both for, and to, that voice.

Who is this woman, and what did she do with...me?