As a child, my grandmother and then my aunt took me to church. My mother had never gone to church, and she felt awkward there and didn’t understand or want to understand the beliefs. My father had been raised by my grandmother, but he was a scientific man and had turned away from religion.
I believed in God at the tender age of 2. God and I clashed, and He won. My sister, Cindy was born when I was 2, and I did not like her. She took my crib, my place in my parents bedroom, most of my mother’s attention and now I had to share my parent’s love. When she was just an infant, she became very ill with a respiratory illness. My mother had the vaporizer running next to Cindy’s crib, a glass contraption that had boiling water inside. While my mother was busy, and Cindy was sleeping, I decided to climb up into her crib. I honestly think I had some kind of evil intentions toward her. I told myself I was just going to see if she was okay, but my conscience was telling me to stop. I climbed onto a dresser next to the crib, and carefully put my leg out to get into the crib, but I was too far away and instead my leg came down onto the chair that held the vaporizer, and I went tumbling down, the vaporizer crashing next to me, breaking and pouring boiling water all over my feet. As I was screaming, I heard a voice inside my head saying, “Don’t ever hurt her,” and I promised I never would. I knew it was God talking to me. And I still have the scars on my feet to this day.
I was raised in the church, and I believed with all my heart that Adam messed it all up, that Jesus died as a sacrifice for all sin, and all I had to do was ask for forgiveness and I would share in the same reward as the son of God. It all made sense to me, I often felt the spirit of God with me, and I knew God cared.
When I was in my twenties, I began to question my beliefs. I was very curious about other belief systems and spirituality, and began a journey of reading books about other religions. I read books by Carlos Casteneda, who studied under don Juan Matos, which were a trip. I also read books by T. Lobsang Rampa, a Tibetan monk, who used astral projection, among other things and could read auras. These books promised a way to explore the mysteries of the world, and spirituality. While these other beliefs were interesting, nothing really seemed to have an answer, just more seeking and trying, leading to more seeking and trying.
So I stopped my search and just figured I was going to hell. I didn’t like idea, but I was the one who had turned my back on God, so it was all on me. One day, when my first born was 2 or 3 yrs. old, I just asked God to give me a sign if He was willing to forgive me and take me back. That day, in line at the DMV in California, a man standing behind me began to talk to me about God. He invited me to his church and told me God has a plan for me. That man was a preacher at a church not far from where we were living. I took that as my sign, and returned to my beliefs and my God.
Is spirituality important to me? Yes, it is a part of life. We are spiritual beings, attached to the earth and each other and a living God that loves us. But God is the most important thing to me. I wouldn’t have made it alive this far in this life if not for Him.
A Little Bit of Everything, With Love 