Shalom:
My friend Richard Kidd recently said: "People all around you are on a spiritual journey. It may be different than yours, perhaps filled with hurt and pain. Have you taken the time to stop and listen and ask respectful questions?"
His question got me thinking about my own spiritual journey....
My own journey has been filled with so many twist and turns, down through deep, dark valleys, black caves and even a worm-hole or two.
On the road I have met very interesting folks, gain friends, lost friends and even found my soul-mate.
As I look back, it has been an amazing journey that is far from over.
My journey began as a child, sitting on the window slit of my bedroom and staring out into the night sky, knowing that there was something, bigger, greater, than myself.
I would stare out the window, searching the ebony black sky, trying to peek around the moon or the stars, trying to see if there was an opening, hoping to catch a glimmer of an angel, or maybe even G-d Himself.
I remember at bedtime, Mummie kneeling beside our bed; my sister on one side of her and I on the other, her leading us in our bedtime prayer, "now I pray me down to sleep..."
I can still hear Mummie's voice, I can still feel her hand, holding my.
My mother.
It was my mother who placed my feet upon the path of faith, holding my hand as she taught me to walk. And when I could finally walk on my own, she took my hand and placed it into the Hand of G-d.
As I sit here and begin this series on my own spiritual journey, I realise how blessed I am to still have my mother walking with me on my journey, still guiding me, still encouraging me.
Still taking my hand and praying with me.
His question got me thinking about my own spiritual journey....
My own journey has been filled with so many twist and turns, down through deep, dark valleys, black caves and even a worm-hole or two.
On the road I have met very interesting folks, gain friends, lost friends and even found my soul-mate.
As I look back, it has been an amazing journey that is far from over.
My journey began as a child, sitting on the window slit of my bedroom and staring out into the night sky, knowing that there was something, bigger, greater, than myself.
I would stare out the window, searching the ebony black sky, trying to peek around the moon or the stars, trying to see if there was an opening, hoping to catch a glimmer of an angel, or maybe even G-d Himself.
I remember at bedtime, Mummie kneeling beside our bed; my sister on one side of her and I on the other, her leading us in our bedtime prayer, "now I pray me down to sleep..."
I can still hear Mummie's voice, I can still feel her hand, holding my.
My mother.
It was my mother who placed my feet upon the path of faith, holding my hand as she taught me to walk. And when I could finally walk on my own, she took my hand and placed it into the Hand of G-d.
As I sit here and begin this series on my own spiritual journey, I realise how blessed I am to still have my mother walking with me on my journey, still guiding me, still encouraging me.
Still taking my hand and praying with me.
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