My calling didn’t sound like a trumpet. It sounded like a whisper.

Your calling comes quietly.

I used to think a calling would come with a sign.

A lightning bolt. A dream. A prophecy.

Something big. Something holy.

Instead, it came quietly.

Like a whisper I couldn’t ignore.

Like a knowing that didn’t need words.

—

My calling wasn’t glamorous.

It didn’t promise fame or money.

It came after I lost what I thought mattered most.

It came when I was broken.

It came when I no longer had anything to prove.

And it said:

“What if everything that hurt you was preparing you to hold space for others?”

—

Your calling doesn’t always show up as a job title.

Or a business plan.

It shows up in what breaks your heart —and what heals it.

It lives in your longing.

In what you can’t not do.

In what brings you home to yourself.

—

Your calling is not out there. It’s inside. Waiting for you to be quiet enough to hear it. And brave enough to follow it.

Even if your voice shakes.

Even if your hands tremble.

Even if no one else understands.

Because when you say yes to it — you finally come home.