It was an ordinary Sunday two decades ago. I couldn’t tell you the weather, or even what season it was, but I so clearly remember how I felt.

Despite my lifelong theological wrestlings, my husband, our twins and I had been attending a very large church for several years. The music was fun and lively, and the small classes provided a sense of comfort and familiarity that reminded me of my childhood. The opportunity to connect with a community of genuine, good-hearted people offered our family a sense of belonging. 

In principle, it was a day of rest, but the chaos of that particular week had overwhelmed me. I felt torn in too many directions.  I was at the peak of my career as an anesthesiologist, the clinical work was exacting, the administrative work never-ending, and we were always short-staffed. The juggling act of prioritizing our marriage, parenting small children, and a demanding career was stressful, but the joy always outweighed the challenges. 

However, our family was not yet complete. Years of longing and struggle to expand our family held an underlay of loss and grief, and also a tenuous thread of relentless hope. That particular weekend, we received a sudden call with an adoption opportunity that required immediate out of state travel. Simultaneously I became aware of a brewing disaster at the hospital that I simply couldn’t delegate away. Hoping for some wisdom and support, I shared the adoption opportunity with our small church group.

A kind, older woman in the group came up to me afterwards and asked, “What does your heart say?”

I don’t know if I was more startled by the question, or by the fact that I didn’t have the answer. Throughout my life, I had relied heavily on my thinking mind to offer up the answers I needed. It perplexed me to consider the possibility that not only did I not know the answer, but that my heart might know something that my mind did not. 

The older woman’s question lingered with me for decades. It started me on a journey of personal reflection and self-discovery that allowed me to hear what my heart had been trying to tell me all along. Today, the practice of “heart listening” is an integral part of who I am and has become central to how I live my life.

Although we ultimately declined the opportunity that had presented itself the day the “heart” question was posed to me, our family did later expand through exceptional circumstances — circumstances that came about after I stopped trying to figure out how to make it happen with my “mind” and opened my heart to allowing things to unfold. 

Once I learned to deepen my attention to include my heart, my life and our family’s life began to expand in ways I couldn’t have previously imagined. 

Integrating heart awareness into my life doesn’t exempt me from life’s difficulties. Heart awareness does, however, allow me to be more present with life’s challenges without getting overwhelmed by them. It also allows me to respond more creatively during difficult times, and helps me engage with life more fully.  

Rather than bracing myself against physical pain, emotional turmoil, professional quandaries, I now work to embrace loss and grief as opportunities to more deeply integrate my mind, body and heart-centered awareness. As a result, life feels more full of joy and wonder and often leaves me in a state of awe as I reflect on this human journey we all share.

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I offer SoulWise Listening and Spiritual Direction to clients across Canada, the US, and internationally. All services are offered virtually at this time.

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