I don’t remember a time when I felt safe. The rules seemed to shift continually
and I remember searching for quiet hidden places.
And I remember talking/thinking to whatever/whoever ‘out
there’ who could love me and teach me.
I just knew that there was somehow a creator-lover-something beyond what
I experienced.
It took a lot of hard years to name God and to begin a
relationship of listening and praying.
I was a lost soul (we were called hippies way back then…). I didn’t know much about right or
wrong except by instinct and I tried anything that looked remotely
interesting. Addiction, mostly to
(red) wine finally conquered any sense that I had of being in control of my
life.
People from my past often describe me as adventurous and
courageous. I traveled a lot, left
Ohio and landed in the San Francisco Bay area, and made a financial success of
a career in insurance and finance. And I learned to drink better (red) wines in
the name of good client relations.
My life looked good—a house in a wealthy suburb, a
successful career, nice car, world travel. Mostly, though, what I remember is fear and emptiness and
hopelessness.
And still I ‘talked’ or pleaded to the great whatever that
was ‘out there.’
P.S. Hey folks!
Several of you have been emailing in response to these blogs. You can
respond to these blogs on the blog site.
Click on comments. That way
others can see your thoughts and maybe we can have a conversation.
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