From Nowhere – Mar 1963

August 2013

From the age of 8 until I was 10, I attended a Sunday Service for children at the local Lutheran Church, in our small town, in mid West Germany.
I remember telling my father I did not believe in all the stories any more, but that may have been later than the event I am referring to here. I was certainly aware that I did not believe. Yet, the Sunday Service provided calm, quiet, comfort, a space of my own to feel and be.
I loved the organ music and I liked the modern pine pews and stain glass windwos.
The one time I am thinking about, on my way back to my parents’ house, through a lower middles class estate of blocks of flats, I found myself crying out inside: How am I to survive this?
Thinking before even thinking, of the numb, miserable, silent atmosphere with my parents. The adult now relates this to family secrets. The child of 9 had no words.
And, the irony is, the 9-year-old would certainly not have any words for what happened next: She saw in her mind’s eye and felt it in her bones “There is a Light Beyond All”.
Instantly, at that moment, I also saw my father, in my mind; he did not have the confidence to tune into it, and my mother: She could not be bothered.
For a moment there, I treasured this with a feeling I now describe as awe and acknowledged I must never forget this. Yet, I did, of course, for many years.
And now, there is no God to shake my fist at: “What were You THINKING, giving THAT as a comfort to a 9-year-old?”
Years after the memory had come back to me, I found myself in Scotland, in my early forties, being re-connected with the world tradition the insight originated from.

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~ by Barbara S on August 20, 2013.

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