Working as a nurse in a hospital, I formed a quiet bond with one of the aides, Pat. After long shifts, we sometimes stopped at a diner on the way home. She had two kids and couldn't afford much gas, so I'd drive her. One night, over coffee, I asked her why things were so tight financially. She sighed and said, "My ex-husband doesn't pay child support."
I asked, "Do you know where he works?"
"Yes," she nodded. "Construction. He gets paid in cash, so he doesn't report it."
That moment lit something inside me.
I had an idea.
I told her to wear a scarf over her hair and dark glasses. We drove to the site where her ex worked and parked across the street. At the end of the day, I snapped photos of the foreman handing him cash. I had the film processed and gave the pictures to Pat.
She took them to court.He was warned to pay through the probation department or go to jail. And yes, he had to pay all the back support—with interest.
That moment—that small victory of justice—felt electric. I didn't realize then that it was a seed, one of many planted long before I understood what it would grow into.
Can you think back on your life and recognize a moment where a seed was planted—where you took an action that felt small but later bloomed into something big? Maybe it was helping someone. Or perhaps it was the day you said, "Enough," and made a change for yourself.
These hints don't arrive with flashing lights. For me, they came quietly—like the shy, invisible child I was. My mother believed children should be seen and not heard, so I grew cautious, introverted, and almost wired for silence. It would take years to realize I was also wired for insight.
I used to think standing up for others mattered more than standing up for myself. But eventually, I learned that we need both. If we only defend others, we abandon ourselves. And if we only protect ourselves, we might forget our connection to others.
That imbalance? It made my body tense, my decisions impulsive, not spontaneous. I was a seesaw with no one on the other end.
The goal? As I wrote in a song lyric:
"Make my spirit and me one.”
Link: https://nancyorlenweber.com/cowrote-songs-with-elaine-silver/
I once searched for external answers to ease an inner ache, only to discover this simple truth: a soul-sized void can't be filled from the outside in. Now, I find peace in solitude just as easily as I do in company. That, to me, is balance. That is the unfolding journey inward.
We're all like the lotus—layer after layer of petals, each waiting for its moment to open. The lotus seems to know the order. Me? I sometimes wandered through the maze. But I've come to see that the maze is the journey. And we emerge when we begin to accept—really accept—who we are.
Not standing up for yourself or standing too loudly for yourself can create imbalance.
Sometimes, our soul copes by developing cravings, patterns, or defenses. But every time we make a conscious choice to care—for ourselves and others—we move closer to clarity.
And when we look back, we can see which seeds helped us grow…
…and which ones we're ready to toss.
Soul Hint for You:
What seed did you once plant—knowingly or not—that has quietly bloomed into something meaningful in your life?
Take a moment to honor it.
Each layer we peel back, each seed we plant—whether through quiet acts of kindness or bold moments of justice—shapes the unfolding of who we are. What starts as a whisper from the soul can become a powerful turning point, not only for ourselves, but for those we are meant to help along the way.
Your soul leaves hints.
And the more we listen to the voice of the soul, the clearer and more familiar it becomes.
Love, Nancy
