The Whisper Within

" Believing that God powers strange coincidences and the journey that lies ahead."


The Whisper Within

What is the whisper within?

Some say we all have that little nagging voice that tells us right from wrong. It is the gut feeling you have deep inside your soul that something just isn’t right. Some call it a sixth sense or is it a sick sense? It is your conscience? Do you believe we all are born with a good and righteous morality? Or ethics? Are you capable of listening to your heart? To your soul? Do you believe in dreams? Or in signs?

So what is the whisper within?

I believe it something different. Something extraordinary.

Something that cannot be simply explained through a Google search or Wikipedia entry but through a life being led.

At this stage of my life, after journaling a decade of “strange coincidences”, I feel compelled to open the tattered, beat-up, spilled on, read and reread pages of my journals and share the recollections of “the good, the bad, and the ugly.

I Believe GOD powers strange coincidences and the journey called life. This will be a weekly blog of  stories that inspire hope, love, forgiveness, and anticipation of the joy that lies ahead.



I evacuated as a precaution yesterday from #thomasfires. I am home now . I do not worry . “ … for when your way is rough… your patience will grow. So let it grow, and don’t try to squirm out of your problems . For when your patience is finally in full bloom you will be ready for anything, strong in character, full and complete .” James 1:4 #santabarbara


It was a hot sunny day . Yep , I know, when is it not ? I live in Santa Barbara. It’s like Ground Hog Day on repeat .

The Beach . Sea glass . My Jeep .

A block from home; a tent . A lemonade stand . Posters . A cause ?

Yep , let’s do a ” U ” e!

I park , put a 5 in the jar, and read the poster.


Are you kidding me ,God ?

“Excuse me, who has Lyme disease ?”

The petite woman answers, ” My whole family . Me,my husband, and my kids .”

My heart hurt . No, not you , too !

We exchange stories. The process of misdiagnosis . The ongoing pain . The unanswered path of healing. The cost of fighting the CDC , and the financial stress of paying for treatment .

Five minutes later , she handed me a postcard , Love for Lyme Warriors : Help save our future !

I flipped over the card .

A doctor’s name . A support group meeting . A Facebook group .

“If you are free ; come tomorrow to Handlebar’s coffee shop . It is our monthly meeting .”

A group . A neighbor . A fellow Lyme warrior.

I turned to the car but looked back and reread the poster . To me it read ” Welcome to Santa Barbara, you are home and not alone .”

Thanks, Ashley . You were my gift .

” AND we know in all things God works for the good of those who love him ” Romans 8:28


A dresser and then a dream.

I can’t make up this stuff up…pull up a chair, get comfy, pour a drink, and enjoy the last sip.

It all started with a dresser. Yes, a dresser. I moved to Santa Barbara into a cute cottage or should I say, cracker box, about a month ago and had to let go most of my Chicago furniture.  One of bedrooms has no closets. Seriously, how do even call it a bedroom without a closet? I was in desperate need of storage. So with a press of an Facebook app and a search, I found a dresser. The arrangements were made.

Fifteen miles through the mountains, a forest preserve, deep into the woods, my GPS announced, “You have arrived at your destination.” Oh Crap!

I panicked and threw the jeep in reverse. It was straight out of a horror movie …” She went looking for a dresser and ended up dead.” That’s not gonna be me. I floored it, pulled over to a street light and tried to call the seller. No service. Are you kidding me?

I shifted to drive. Yep, I’m outta here…. Until lights. Sirens… and a “Miss, can I see your driver’s license?”

 “Sorry, officer. I am lost. Do you know where Paradise store is?”

Ten minutes later, I pulled in a parking lot.” Welcome to Paradise.” Seriously, God, Paradise? Furniture and cash were exchange. The deal was done. But the next day, I was pulled in by an antique chair. Same place. Same deal.

chair 2

The talented furniture artist and I exchanged information. “Can you find me an armoire?”

A text received. Another deal was in the making. And then she gushed.

My husband said you are a writer.

I am a CFP, but I write a blog.

Later that day, another text:

I have read so many of your writings. I’m addicted. LOL

BUT Wait… Here is where the plot turns:

Her husband arrived at my house, money is exchanged, and then…

“ Lisa. I can’t thank you enough for believing in my wife and hiring her. She stepped down from her job from University of Santa Barbara to take care of our autistic child. I never finished college, but I can take the engineer test with California to be a licensed civil engineer. I am working towards it. No one believes in us. … We read your blog of how you were broke and now your living your dream…. You are giving us a chance to change our life.”

I bit my lip, swallowed hard, and hugged him.

“You are an amazing woman, Lisa.”

“No, God is amazing. Nicholle is so talented. You will be great.”

I closed the door and cried… and then yelled.

“You know me God, you really know me. You brought me here. I thought it was about me… but it was about You. I get it.”

Mother Theresa always said, “Serve the one in front of you.”

We are all called to serve. Sometimes, the smallest of ways, can have the greatest impact.

I  Corinthians 16:58 ” Nothing you do for the Lord will ever be wasted.”

You can change someone’s story. What is your heart whispering? Will you listen?

P.S. Please check out Minted & Chipped on FB for amazing furniture.

dresser 2




It is 3 a.m. I shift on the pillow.   What was that dream?

I lay contemplating. Lights on? Lights off? How far do you wanna take this?

With legs intertwined between sheets, I reach for the light. Oh… This is serious.

I grab my journal, my pen, and soon my thoughts can’t keep up with my scribbling hand.

Love…Why does love consume my daily rhythms and my nightly rems.

And why did I dream of him? And him too?

I beg for answers in the early dawn. God is not kind. He loves a mystery.

But love consumes me; it is the tempo to my day to which I measure… How much love was smashed, in the twenty-four hours?

Did I give love?

Did I get love?

That is the simple equation that must end with a positive integer.

I tally my week like standing in a grocery check-out line; mentally adding up the final cost.

  • A “I love you, Lisa” from a ninety-one-year-old client.
  • A package received across thousands of miles
  • A hug given to blue eyes after surgery
  • A tap on a knee from a white lab coat
  • A nod to a stranger inviting him to join me on the pew
  • A text for coffee served with a side of sweetness


My night awakens my craving … but my day is the real deal.

I give love.

I get love.

“If I gave everything… but did not love others, I would be of no value.” I Corinthians 13:3

Or as the Beatles sang, All you need is love.

I heard the whisper. You are good.

I drop my journal and the pen to the  floor.

Until my dreams get introduced to the light…. Lights off. Goodnight.

So do you give? Do you get?

north carolina beach



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I did it. I finally did it.

I laid my scissors on the table and looked around the garage; empty boxes and paper tossed about.

The last box .

I open it up and found what I have been searching for ; a journal from my Florence vacation. I brushed my hand across the supple suede, lifted it to my nose and breathed in the leather, like an aphrodisiac luring me in .I open the pages; exposing the crisp creamy white, begging to be defiled .


I laid the journal off to the side and stared at the last table in the garage to be let go . Why didn’t I leave this a month ago at the curb in Westlake? There is no room for this in Santa Barbara.

A smirked crossed my face as I remembered what a friend said while packing me, “Nothing significant from your past can go to your future?”

“What d’ya mean?”

“Come on, Lis. You wonder why you don’t have a boyfriend? You still have your old bedroom furniture from Chicago. Let it go.”

With a quick press of the app, I uploaded a photo and tagged it. Free. I let go of my past and opened up my future.

I glanced down at the journal on the table. I turned the page. Time for fresh start. This is saved for something special.

And just like the last unopened box …Maybe, just maybe, God is saving the best for last too. It may be what I was looking for all along.

God has written my story already. I just need to be patient and let him fill the pages.

“You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was written in your book.” Psalm 139:16

Can you let go and let the magic begin?