A Whisper of Calling

The Flicker of Light had barely begun to warm the cold corners of my soul before the shadows started to creep back in. It was a familiar dance, one I’d perfected over years of stumbling through life. Just when I thought I’d found a solid patch of ground, the earth beneath my feet would shift, threatening to swallow me whole. This flicker, this nascent sense of purpose, felt fragile, like a butterfly’s wing caught in a gale. And the gale, of course, was the Voice of Doubt, my oldest and most relentless companion.

It started subtly, a low hum beneath the surface of my thoughts. *Calling? You? Don’t be a fool.* It whispered when I tried to meditate, when I sat in quiet contemplation, trying to parse the faint stirrings within. *You’re the one who messed up everything you touched. The one who couldn’t hold a job, couldn’t keep a promise, couldn’t even keep a decent relationship. What makes you think anyone, least of all the Almighty, would call *you* to do anything?*

The words weren’t spoken aloud, not in the way people talk. They were more like insidious suggestions, planted deep within the fertile soil of my past failures. They carried the weight of every disappointed glance, every harsh word, every slammed door. They were the echoes of my own self-recrimination given form.