Rambling on about Divine Connection and Human Effort…

There are moments in life when a single phrase, encountered in passing, unfurls itself and settles into the quiet corners of the heart. “God is in control, but he does not expect you to lean on a shovel and pray for a hole.” It is a quote that, simple in its wisdom, calls forth the dance between faith and action—the reminder that divine providence asks not for passivity, but for a partnership with our own hands and intentions. I read this quote a few weeks back and have since decided that I had leaned long enough, it is time to dig…

This morning, I found myself holding this idea close to me. The words echoed in my mind as I spoke with a friend whose presence is woven deep into my spirit—a friend who hears, one who listens for the silence beneath my words and gently seeks me out when I have slipped from view. These friends are not easily found, and perhaps, are seldom sought; they appear when the soul is thirsty for understanding, when the ordinary begins to shimmer with sacred possibility. She heard my quiet, but she didn’t know that it was because of her, because of the last year and a half of writing projects that I have been involved with that I have become quiet now. The desire in me to write has become overwhelming, I have been trying to find my beginning… My mind is so full of noise that at times I just sit, lost in the chaos there, but now I must cut through the chaos to find my voice, my words.

To meet someone who hears your quiet is to encounter grace itself. In a world that busies itself with the clamor of distraction, there are those who pause long enough to sense when you’ve retreated, those whose hearts beat in tandem with yours. I credit God for the thread that binds me to this friend; she does the same. Ours is a connection not manufactured by circumstance, but gifted by something greater, a divine whisper that moves through both of us, reminding us that we are seen, known, and cherished. As my friend says, we are ThriveHers, connected by our strength that has been born from our pain, suffering, and faith. My friend, Dr. Sonya McKinzie, blessed me beyond measure about 2 years ago when she started looking for Authors for an Anthology book. I, along with 11 other Godly women, became a part of her dream. “The Blueprint of a ThriveHer“, my first write, an Amazon Best Seller and the most amazing experience in my life.  

I call her a God Whisperer. She is attuned to the sacred nudges that prompt her to reach out, often just as I am sinking beneath the surface. There is no grand spectacle, no fanfare—just a small message, a single question, a gentle touch. It is as if she has learned to listen not only to the world around her but to the still small voice within. In her presence, I am reminded that faith is not merely an inward gaze, but an outward movement reaching out for others, a doing of the work that begins with shared experiences, sisterhood, and prayer.

And so, I return to the quote: God is in control, but the shovel waits for our hands. The hole will not dig itself, and faith, while foundational, must be animated by action. Divine grace works through us, not for us alone; it is a current that flows most freely when we open ourselves to participate in its movement. In the company of this friend, I am encouraged not only to trust in God’s plan but also to take up the tools at my disposal—kindness, courage, vulnerability, and love. To reach into my mind, to sit in front of my computer screen and write, to share my words, my story. We all have one…

These friendships are rare, luminous gifts. They teach us that to lean on God is also to lean into the work of loving one another, of showing up, of becoming the answer to prayers spoken in silence. They remind us that invisibility is not a permanent state, and that sometimes, just sometimes, God sends a whisper in the form of a friend who sees us—even when we have forgotten how to see ourselves.

In gratitude for these sacred connections, I hold my shovel with both hands and step out into the day, ready to dig, to sow, to love, knowing that God is both with me and within those who walk beside me. The miracle, perhaps, is that we are never truly alone, and that every gentle nudge is an invitation to participate in the creation of something holy, a friendship that endures, a faith that acts, a life that listens for the whisper. The God Whisper from a friend who hears your quiet and reaches out to make the chaos seem a bit quieter, and life a bit brighter. Today I got a nudge, and tonight my fingers have tapped across the keyboard to share a bit of hope. My mind has raced today with possibilities and a desire to do what I dream of and what she tells me it is time for… to write.