I whispered prayers as I stood there. I thanked God for letting me come to Paris and to see this wonderful Notre Dame. I asked Him for answers, thinking, surely, in one of the most beautiful monuments built to Him, He would whisper back to me, revealing what I wanted to know. Nothing, just the whispers of those around me.
I often wonder if I miss the whispers. Maybe I don't take time to be quiet enough to hear them. Maybe the whispers aren't in the silence but they are in the noise, in the situations that I am in or the people who cross my path.
I don't know that I'm bright enough for whispers. I think I need a bullhorn, blaring in my ear to get the point across. Until that happens, I'll continue to whisper my prayers, thanking God for what He is letting me see. Instead of asking for answers, maybe I'll whisper for the strength to not need them. Maybe I'll whisper my trust in Him and His plan for me. Maybe that's when He will whisper back, when I turn it all over to Him.