Or, perhaps you’re in need of hope…

If you’re a seasoned seeker, you know that beyond hope there is something deeper… a way of being that helps us better navigate life’s difficulties — and welcome its joys.

Even experiencing incredible moments of awakening may not prevent us from slipping back into old patterns — if we don’t know how to embody their powerful transformative energies and weave their gifts into our lives.

To get to that sweet spot beyond hope, we need to learn to trust — our journey, life circumstances, ourselves, and that we will come to see the light in the darkness even in our most difficult moments.

In this profoundly illuminating hour with author and renowned thought leader Alexander John Shaia, PhD, you’ll discover the universal 4-path journey — recognized by every major spiritual tradition, from Shamanism to Judaism, and by mythology and psychology — as a powerful and reassuring guide to transformation for these times.

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Alexander John reveals uncommon wisdom about these mystical paths — profoundly feminine teachings hidden in Christianity’s gospels, many of which have been “lost” for over a thousand years — that illuminate a vital life map leading us to inner freedom, safety, respect, and a profound connection with God.

You’ll discover a way to live with a trust that is beyond hope in the face of change, loss, fear, overwhelm, and discontent — that's available and applicable to everyone, regardless of gender, ethnicity, orientation, spiritual tradition, or no tradition.

You’ll also experience a powerful guided meditation — a journey of emerging from darkness into the dawn of a new day to access the beauty and power of the 4-path teachings and the ease and joy they can bring you.

Alexander John is an intrepid scholar whose inspiring perspective on the mystical feminine in Christianity’s gospels may best be described as very human and loving.

His lifelong practice of prayer, woven with his extensive knowledge of anthropology, psychology, spirituality, and ritual work, makes him a unique thought leader well worth getting to know.

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In this eye-opening spiritual class, you’ll:

1. Discover the beauty and power of the 4-Path Journey underlying all great spiritual traditions — and how it awakens us to a deeper reality that liberates fear and cultivates trust
2. Experience a profound guided meditation welcoming you into the rhythm of a 24-hour cycle as you imagine a dark time in your life, yet arrive at the dawn of a new day, feeling more grounded and at ease
3. Excavate gifts for your transformation from Christianity’s mystical feminine teachings hidden beneath the shadow of patriarchy
4. Learn how the Story of John may have been written by a woman
5. Find out if you’ve been lured by The Dangerous Beautiful, Alexander John’s phrase for spiritual bypass or the inability to properly embody and express the high-voltage energy of awakening

During the hour, you’ll also learn about a brand-new 7-week online course with Alexander John.

In that spiritual course, you’ll be immersed in the powerful Christian teachings of the four gospels to experience the 4-Path Journey as a means to traverse inner and collective challenges with grace, courage, and assuredness… traveling beyond hope to a richer, happier, more purposeful life.

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About Your Spiritual Teacher – Alexander John Shaia, PhD

Born and raised in Birmingham, Alabama, Alexander John Shaia was part of a large extended family that had emigrated from Lebanon a generation previously. He grew up immersed in the ancient traditions of Middle Eastern Christianity (Maronite Catholicism) and was expected to become a priest, a family tradition since the year 1300. He was led otherwise.

Alexander John attended the University of Notre Dame and received a degree in Cultural Anthropology. Next came a brief time in seminary followed by a master’s in Counseling Education, a master’s in Religious Education, a graduate certificate in Pastoral Psychotherapy, and a PhD in Clinical Psychology.

His extensive psychological training across many modalities finally led him to Switzerland where he studied with Dora Maria Kalff, a Jungian analyst and founder of Sandplay Psychotherapy. Alexander John became the first U.S. man, and openly gay man, admitted to the International Society for Sandplay Therapy — and continues to serve as a senior Certified Teaching Member of the organization.

Returning to the United States, he undertook years of private practice, teaching parish and retreat ministry, and further study. Integrating his lifelong practice of prayer with many cross-disciplines — anthropology, psychology, spirituality, and ritual work — has shaped him into a unique thought leader, prolific author, and widely sought-after consultant, trainer, and inspiring keynote speaker.

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The post Discover the Mystical, Feminine Map to Transformation Hidden in Christianity’s 4 Gospels – With Alexander John Shaia appeared first on Spiritual Growth Events.

“I don’t care what your friend says, they’re my dishes and I want you to pack them the way I say so!” Salome, a middle-aged mother, shouted in her shrill voice at her son, in his mid twenties. They were standing in the living room of her house surrounded by boxes and piles and piles of her possessions. “Now, stand the plates on their side when you pack them. I read in a magazine once that that’s the way to keep them from breaking.”
“I’ve moved lots of time and packed lots of dishes,” replied the son. “None have ever broken.”
“They’re my dishes!” She screamed at him, as rain beat on the windows. “Pack them the way I tell you!” Lightening flashed and thunder rolled in the background.
Pictures flashed in Jared’s mind, a steady stream of previous times in his life when his mother had insisted on doing some task in a particular and difficult way. The outcome wasn’t any different from what he was going to do, her way was just more work for him.

“I told you to fold the towels THIS WAY!!” Jared’s mother screamed at him when he was ten. She held up the towel lengthways, folded it in half, then folded it in half again the other way. “That way you get the whole towel when it’s taken from the shelf! Now refold them all the way I said!” She pointed to the stack of towels he had just folded.
Jared had thought he was done because the clean towels were all folded. Now he had to unfold and refold them all over again. It was a nice day outside, but he couldn’t go out, he had to redo the stack of towels and finish the rest of the laundry.

“What do you think you’re DOING!” Jared’s mother screamed at him when he was eleven. He had just stacked all the clean dishes on a towel laid crossways on the kitchen table.
“I wanted them to look fancy, like they do in hotels.” He murmured with his head down.
“That’s a dirty towel,” stated his mother as the picked up the stack of clean dishes and put them in the dirty dishwater in the sink. “Now wash them all again!” She swept up all the silverware and dumped it all into the water too, and then piled all the drinking glasses on top
It didn’t matter that only the bottoms of the plates and cups had touched the towel, which was no dirtier than yesterday when he’d dried the dishes with it. No one was going to eat off the bottom of the plates, nor touch the bottom of the glasses. That didn’t matter now, they were all in the dirty dishwater. Jared looked out the window, it would take the rest of the afternoon to rewash all the dishes. He would not be able to go out and play at all that day.

“You’re supposed to move everything out of the room BEFORE you sweep the floor!” Jared’s mother yelled at him when he was twelve. “You can’t just sweep AROUND the chairs, now move them to the hall and sweep the floor again. And you need to mop and wax the floor, too! Next time do it the way I told you the first time!” She stomped out of the house, slamming the door behind her. A few moments later, Jared heard the sound of her car pulling out of the driveway. He rested his head on top of his hands as he held the top of the broom. The job was now going to take the rest of the afternoon.

“No, No, NO!” Yelled Jared’s mother when he was nine, as she came over to the mounds of laundry. He was sitting on the floor sorting clothes into piles to be washed. “Don’t put my silk blouse into the pile of your shirts! I’ve told you that has to be washed separately, in the sink, by hand. Now set it aside so it won’t get mixed up again!”
Jared sighed and leaned back against the washing machine.
“Get busy!” she screamed. “Don’t just sit there like a bump on a log! Pull out enough colored clothes for a load and start them while you sort the rest. You don’t have to take all day! I’m going to lie down. When I come back the first load should be done and in the dryer and a second load in the washer!” She turned and walked away without a response from Jared. He slowly stood up and began to put clothes of assorted colors into the washing machine.
“And remember!” His mother called back. “Turn all the socks inside out, shake them, then turn them right side out again, before you wash them. The dirt can’t get out of them otherwise, especially your brother’s and your father’s.” Then he heard the door to her room shut firmly. He sighed and laid his head on his arms on top of the clothes dryer.

The room was lit by a flash of lightening and, moments later, a deafening crashing sound filled the air.
“That was pretty close,” remarked Jared.
“Yes, but it’s outside. We’ve got to get this stuff packed. I have to be out of here by the end of the week.”
“This would be a good time to sort out the stuff you don’t need.”
“Don’t tell me what I need or don’t need! Just pack the way I told you!
The telephone, an older one connected to a land line, on a table by the couch, gave a short, partial ring.
“Who could be calling me now?” Salome wondered as she took a step to the phone.
“It may not be wise to talk on the phone right now,” Jared cautioned his mother.
“Just pack, I’ll talk on the phone whenever I want to!
As she brought the phone up to her ear a violent blast of light split the air outside the window and an earth-breaking crash of sound filled the room. A flash of light jumped from the phone to Salome’s head. She screamed and collapsed on the floor.
Jared stood paralyzed for a moment. Through his mind flashed brief memories of times when he was little and had been helpless under her tyrannical rage. Now she was helpless on the floor and relief flooded through him.

“Here is a blanket for your new baby.” Said Jared’s mother, when he was five, as she gave a brightly colored blanket to a woman Jared had never seen before. It was his favorite blanket. He used it to make a tent over his bed and fashion other spaces to play in. It was one of the few things in the house that was brightly colored. It was also special because it was the only sheet-blanket in the house: soft and cuddly, yet light-weight. That was fascinating to Jared. His mother had taken it away from him just that morning, washed it and wrapped it up. What was he going to use now to make special places? He watched helplessly as he saw it leave his life.

“Fill these boxes with strawberries.” Jared’s mother instructed him when he was twelve. He and his two younger brothers were standing at the edge of a large strawberry patch. “I’m going in to talk to Mrs. Wilson.” She turned and walked toward the farmhouse next to the berry patch. The two little boys, aged five and six, picked and ate a few berries then wandered off to the shade of some trees and played there. Jared was alone in the hot sun filling the boxes. He was there a long, long time before his mother came back and they went home. She was not satisfied with the number of boxes he had filled, but she didn’t want to wait for him any longer.
“Now clean the strawberries,” his mother instructed that evening at home in the kitchen. “And pack the nicest ones in this basket. Put the rest in this bowl.” She sat a large, but shallow, woven basket on the kitchen table and left the room.
The next morning Jared was instructed to bring the basket brimming with berries to the car, they were going to run errands.
“Whose place is this?” Jared asked when his mother stopped the car in front of a house he’d never been to before. He thought he knew where all his mother’s friends lived.
“Just bring the basket of berries and don’t bother me.” His mother instructed sharply as she got out of the car and began to walk to the front door. Jared obediently followed.
“Good morning, Mrs. Baker,” Jared’s mother greeted the woman who opened the door. “We were just driving by and I thought you and your husband might like to have some strawberries that I picked yesterday.” Jared’s jaw dropped at that clear-cut lie.
“Why that’s awfully kind of you, but he can’t eat strawberries.”
“Well, you and the children can enjoy them for him.” Jared’s mother took the basket from Jared’s hands and thrust them into the hands of Mrs. Baker. “We can’t stay, we have lots of errands to run.”
“Thank you, they look very nice.” Mrs. Baker said as she took the basket as Jared’s mother ushered him back to the car.
“We don’t even know those people.” Jared objected as they drove off.
“You don’t, but I do. She was the wife of our state representative. He knows me and I’m going to ask him to do something for me and he’ll remember the strawberries.”
“But he can’t even eat them.”
“That’s beside the point. It’s the thought that counts. Now, as soon as we get home I want you to start cutting up the chicken to fry it for supper tonight.”
“Where else are we going today?”
“No where. We’re going home now.”
“But the errands…”
“Pfft.” His mother waved her hand as if that lie was unimportant. Jared sat in silence the rest of the way home. He had had to do all that work, just so she could impress a stranger!

“Jared!” Called his mother when he was nine. “Go get your cowboys and Indians and clean them real good with dish soap and a toothbrush.”
“Why?”
“That’s none of your business! I saw a way to make the cutest fence with pretzel sticks to decorate a cake and your brother’s birthday is tomorrow.”
“But they’re my cowboys and Indians!”
“Go get them! Don’t talk back to me!”
“But he’ll want to keep them!”
“Don’t talk back to me, I said! Just get them!”
Jared was right. After he had cleaned the toys vigorously with a toothbrush and his mother put them on the cake, Tom assumed they were now his – it was his birthday and his cake. He had wanted the toy figures for a long time anyway. When Jared objected his mother just said, “You don’t need to play with them anymore. Be quiet!”

“Don’t even think of it!” Jared’s mother screamed at him across the dinner table when he was ten. “I cooked it – you’re going to eat it.”
Gagging sounds began to come from Jared’s throat as he choked on the food he could not swallow.
“Don’t you dare!” She jumped up from her place, ran around behind Jared, and clamped her hand over his mouth. He was obviously vomiting, but nothing could come out, her hand was held too tightly over his mouth. “You can just keep it down!” She ordered.
After his spasms subside, she washed her hands at the sink and returned to her place at the table and resumed eating. The other children just stare in disbelief.
“Now,” she said with satisfaction looking straight at Jared. “Clean your plate and then start washing the dishes.”

‘Why can’t she say we’re good kids?’ Jared wondered desperately when he was thirteen. ‘We get good grades in school. We don’t get into trouble. We don’t do drugs, or anything like that. Why can’t she say we’re good? Why can’t she say anything nice about us? We ARE nice. At least I think so. The little boys need to hear that they are nice. They might not know. Does she even like us?’
Then he remembered her screaming about the way he swallowed when he drank something, and about the way he shut his lips, and about the way he walked, and of course he couldn’t do any of the housework right. She even screamed at him about the way he slept.
‘I guess she doesn’t like anything about me.’ He concluded.

Jared was ten and standing in front of the kitchen sink. It was a wonderful day outside and he was faced with several day’s piles of dirty dishes on the counter beside him. Washing dishes was boring. It was more interesting to pretend the bubbles of soap were islands: islands that could be moved, divided and recombined. Jar lids were boats. Butter knives were the best tools to move the islands and boats.
Jared was concentrating on sliding the knife into an island, then moving a boat around it. He barely heard his mother walk into the kitchen behind him.
“You should be done by now!” She screamed at him. “You don’t need to take all day just to wash the dishes!”
WHAM! Sudden pain filled the back of his head. Jared grabbed the front of the sink with both hands in order to remain standing up. His head swam as he tried to hold it up. He was dizzy. If he collapsed he knew he would be defeated.
“I knew you were stubborn and hard headed.” His mother exclaimed in surprise and gave a short, hard laugh.. “But I didn’t know your head was so thick it would crack the platter!” She giggled in amazement. “I have the MOST thick-headed kid! I don’t believe it!”

“That is the most asinine thing!” Jared’s mother screamed at him. It didn’t matter the reason or his age, that was the word she used most with him. Most often it was part of a litany: “fat, lazy and asinine.” Every time she screamed his name it sounded as if it were an obscenity. He hated his name.

‘I won’t have to listen to her screaming any more,’ Jared thought as he looked at her crumpled form on the floor. ‘If she’s dead. But what if I’m held responsible? Damn! I guess I’d better do something. She is my mother, she did give me life. I suppose I owe her for that. I guess I can do the rapid compression that I just saw. At least I won’t have to breathe into her like CPR. Uck. But, at least I can say I tried.’ He walked over to the body of his mother on the floor.

Salome found herself in a beautiful garden. Lawns and flowerbeds were tended, trees were magnificent, some in bloom. The air was clear and fresh. There was soft, gentle, uplifting music in the air and floating lights. One of the lights approached her. She heard a voice from the light that was loving and kind but neither male nor female.
“Welcome, my child. You have arrived to begin the next stage of your journey through eternity.” The soft, loving voice came from the light.
Just then some lights shot up from the ground straight into the sky. They were out of sight before Salome could see them clearly.
“What were those?” She asked.
“Those were souls, just as you and I. They have made the ultimate sacrifice on behalf of some other soul. They gave their earthly life for the benefit of someone else. They quickly ascend into the heights of Glory,” the Light replied.
“Where am I?” Salome asked. “What is this place?” Her voice is now different, softer than it had sounded when she was alive.
“Some call it Heaven,” The Light answered. “Some call it the Kingdom of God. There are lots of names, but the name is not important. We are beyond the Kingdom of Names. You are beginning the next stage of your journey.”
“What are they?” Salome points to a cluster of lights in the air. They look like they are dancing with each other.
“Souls who are having a reunion,” The Light answered. “They are obviously sharing joy. Possibly one has newly arrived. Such reunions often happen.”
“No one is here to greet me,” Salome says in disappointment.
“You are being greeted now.”
“But not like that.”
“That is right. Not all souls are greeted the same way. Not all souls are the same.”
Some small lights danced past them in the air like butterflies and caught Salome’s attention.
“What are they?” She asked.
“The also are souls,” the Light answered.
“But they are smaller,” she protested.
“Yes,” the Light agreed. “Not all souls are the same size nor have the same form because they are not all at the same level of development.”
“What are those?” Salome pointed to some small, slow moving, dull lights on the ground.
“The are also souls, far less development than any you have seen so far.”
“What?”
“All souls do not have the same abilities or attributes. The differences are not obvious in earthly life, but they are here. There is great variation. Just like life on earth is greatly varied, so it is also here.”
“How can that be?”
“The purpose of earthly life is to develop the skills and abilities needed in this life,” answered The Light. “Just as an embryo starting it’s earthly journey develops those physical necessities to function in that earthly life: arms, legs, eyes, and all the rest of the body; so too, the purpose of that life is to develop the abilities needed to function here in this life. In that life the attributes are called by such names as: love, kindness, forgiveness, generosity, compassion, understanding – all attributes of the soul. Those who do not develop such attributes are not as developed as souls who do.”
Salome was thoughtful as she absorbed the implications of these words. Her thinking was clear now, more clear than it had ever been while she was alive, all the earthly distractions had vanished.
“In each day of earthly life there appear many opportunities to exercise those attributes,” the Light continued. “Now, in this transition, every person sees the results of their choices. Before proceeding further, you will see the life you have just left.”
Instantly Salome saw herself as a baby smiling and felt the joy of her older sister watching who imagined, in her childish innocence, that the baby was smiling just for her. And she felt the joy of her grandmother who was delighted, once again, to have a baby to hold.
There was joy as she saw herself toddling on unsteady legs to her father. He was delighted that her first steps were toward him. There was more joy as she saw herself responding to the attentions of the people around her.
Then she was an older child hitting someone and feeling the pain of the blows. She heard her old shrill voice screaming horrible sounds and felt the pain of the sounds even more than the pain of being hit.
“No, no. Oh, no!” She moaned.
Several such scenes flashed by of her face contorted into rage while screaming at someone. Each time now she felt the pain that her actions inflicted upon that other person. She could not tell who these people were, their identities did not matter, she was now experiencing all the pain she had given to others. Even incidental actions or remarks that were merely thoughtless, not intentional at all, caused pain, and she felt it all now.
“No, no, no,” she continued to moan.
There was a long period when she felt only pain, continuous, unending pain. Years of her life passed by in vivid sequence until she was a young lady and again felt happiness and joy. She was with a young man who was captivated by her looks and entertained by her wit.
There was more pain as she bragged about what a good “catch” she made, and then joy again when she saw herself in her wedding dress, walking down the aisle of the church where she was married. She had no idea that getting married brought such joy and pleasure to her husband. She marveled at the joy. It was more joy than she had ever experienced.
Next she saw herself in a hospital bed with a tiny, new baby beside her. Now the joy she felt was more than could be contained. She didn’t know the birth of their son meant so much to her husband.
She next saw her face, huge, distorted in rage and screaming. Little baby arms reach up to her in fright wanting to be comforted, but there was no comfort. She moaned as she felt the baby’s bewilderment and fear. The scene changed. The baby’s hands become little boy hands. Soon the hands cover the view of her contorted screaming face to shut it out. Once she yanked the hands away and yelled that he was to look at her when she was talking to him. From then on she saw scene after of her face screaming and occasionally felt the blows of her hands.
“Stop, STOP! PLEASE STOP!” She called out overwhelmed by the pain she has experienced. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry!” She cried from the depths of her being.
“You can endure, you will endure.” Salome heard the voice that she knew came from the Being of Light. “Others had to endure all that you gave them. Now it is your turn until the pain is completed.”
“Opph…” Salome moans as she continued to feel the pain she had inflicted on others. She knows the Being of Light loves her and with that love she endures the pain. The experiences continue until the very day of the packing and the lightening flash. The intensity of the pain was less because, she realized, Jared had become inured to the constant barrage of invectives from her. His affection for her had long ago died. He continued to be part of her life only because he felt a residual level of obligation toward her. His hope that she would someday return his affection had dried up long ago.
The pain finally ceases. She was once again in the garden with the Being of Light.
“What happened?” She asked. “Is it over?”
“Yes, it is over,” the Light replied. “But it seems that your life is not finished after all.”
“Not finished? I didn’t die?”
“Yes, you did die, but someone loves you enough, even though he is unaware of it, he has succeeded in bringing you back.”
As everything faded from Salome‘s view, she heard the words, “Second chance,” faintly from the voice of The Light.

Jared dialed 911 and put the phone on the floor he bent over to his mother so he can hear and talk while doing the rapid chest compressions. He got on his knees and began to pump quickly and sharply in the center of his mother’s chest.
“Lightening strike.” He said between pumping motions when the phone was answered.
“924 Watson Lane.” Another press.
“Ambulance.” Pump.
“I am.” Pump.
“Door unlocked.”
“Living room.”
Time stood still for Jared. There was only the storm outside and his efforts to pump on her chest, to keep blood flowing to her brain with the possibility of keeping her alive.

As the stretcher holding Salome was carried past Jared, she noticed him and reached out her hand, calling his name. He stared at her, then reached out his hand to hers. She gripped his hand tightly and whispered something he couldn’t hear.
“Jared, come with me. Please!” He heard when he leaned down to her face.
Jared was so startled he let go of her hand, but she did not let go of his. His mother had never in her life said “please” to him. He stumbled forward to keep up with the stretcher and held her hand again as they left the house.
“She wants me to come too, but I have to lock the house,” Jared said to the attendants.
“Does it need a key?” One asked.
“No, just push and turn the knob,” Jared answered.
Jared followed beside the stretcher to the ambulance. As it was loaded in, he followed along beside it.
There was a seat beside the stretcher that an attendant motioned for him to sit in. As final preparations were made for departure to the hospital, Jared noticed his mother’s lips again were moving and leaned down to hear.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Salome said. “My sweet baby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m so sorry. Can you ever love me? I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me?”
“What are you talking about?” Jared asked bewildered.
“Everything. Every awful thing I’ve done to you. Every thing I’ve done that hurt you. I didn’t know, I didn’t know. I’m so sorry…”
“Relax, mom. Everything will be fine. Don’t try to talk now, there’ll be time for that later.”
“You need to know that now I know how badly I treated you. You need to know before I die. You need to know, I’m so sorry. How can I make it up to you? I can’t, I know I can’t. I’m so sorry. Can you ever love me?” She began to cry.
Jared was stunned. This was not his mother. At least, not the mother he knew. His mother had never ever said she was sorry for anything she had done. She had never admitted that her behavior was less than perfect or out of the ordinary. She had never considered whether she was a good mother or not. She had simply done what she felt like doing. She had never considered other people to be real, they were just in the background. They either did what she wanted, or stood in the way. Nothing else mattered. Their feelings were not important, only what she wanted was important.
Now this was totally different. Jared couldn’t believe it. What had happened? How could such a change have occurred? It was hard to believe he was hearing these words from his mother. What was going on?
In the hospital, Jared answered questions as doctors and nurses attended to his mother. He was permitted to stay with her.
“I’m going to give her something to put her to sleep,” a doctor finally told Jared. “She needs to sleep, and so do you. Go home and get some rest. Her condition has stabilized, but she’ll need rest and observation. We’ll see how she’s doing tomorrow. Go home. You did a good job. You can feel proud of yourself.” Jared numbly followed the instructions.
The next day Jared was back in the hospital, in her room. He had brought flowers, unsure of her reaction.
“My sweet baby!” His mother exclaimed when she saw him standing in the door. “You are so precious! Come in. Let me hug you.” She reached out her arms toward him.
He sat the flowers down and leaned over the bed to return her hug but warily.
“I’m so sorry. I’ve been so mean to you. Can you ever forgive me? You do love me. How could I have been so nasty to you?”
“Uh, mom…” Jared was hesitant.
“What sweetheart?”
“You’ve changed. What’s going on?”
“Oh. You’ll never believe it…”
“Mom.”
“Well, I don’t believe it myself, and I know it happened.”
“This doesn’t make sense – the things you’ve been saying. It’s not like you…”
“I know sweet boy.” She stroked his head. At first he flinched, then held himself still. She’d never touched him gently like that. If she had touched him before, it was only to hit him.
“I’m not me any more,” she continued. “At least I’m not that me, the way I was. I certainly don’t want to be that way any more. I suppose it is startling for you, but you’ll get used to the new me. I think it will be a nice surprise.”
“But, mom…”
“Okay. I don’t know how to describe it. I don’t know where to begin…”
“The lightening hit.”
“Oh, yes. You know that, and you were right. I should’ve been more careful. I should not have picked up the phone with lightening so close. I never knew that could happen.” She paused to gather her thoughts. Jared waited patiently beside her.
“You won’t think I’m making this up?” She finally asked. “I really don’t know how to describe it.”
“I’ve listened to a lot before, I can listen a little more now.”
“I know you will,” she replied. “OH, God! You are such a wonderful boy. I love you so much, and I treated you like shit. I am so sorry!”
“I know, mom. Apology accepted. What happened?”
“I was in a place so beautiful that I can’t describe it. I learned that people there, after this life, are different sizes and different forms depending on their abilities, and their abilities depended on how they lived their lives here. I saw that I caused a lot of pain to lots of people all my life, but most especially to you. You loved and trusted me so much, and I betrayed you. I hurt you so much, and I’m so sorry.” She reached out her hand for his and he held hers. “I saw myself giving all this pain, I felt I couldn’t take it anymore, but you had no choice and so, neither did I. I don’t know how you managed to endure me. Then the pain stopped and I was back in that place and I was told that I was being called back here. You…. You brought me, your love brought me back. Despite all the pain I’d given you, you still loved me enough to bring me back. I can never say how much that means to me.”
She paused and Jared waited and continued to hold her hand.
“You’ve given me a second chance,” she continued. “I didn’t deserve one. I’ve seen what a mess I’ve made with my life, and I’m going to change. I’m going to be different. I AM different!” She tightened her grip on his hand to emphasize her meaning.
“I can tell that you’re different,” Jared replied. “You never said ‘please’ to me before yesterday. And you never said you were sorry for anything. I can tell that you’ve changed. Thank you. I’ve tried to be a good boy…”
“OH, you have! You’ve been a wonderful boy! Better than I deserved. I’m going to try to make it up to you. I pray to GOD that I will make it up to you!”
“You pray?”
“I will now. I’m sure God exists and I’m sure He loves us. How else could you love me so much as to even try to help me? God gave you to me and you gave me my second chance.”
“Thank you, God.” She looked upward with tears in her eyes. “Thank you, so much. Thank you for such a wonderful son, and thank you for a second chance.” She turned to look at Jared and gave him a smile so filled with love that he was startled, embarrassed and had to glance away.
“I talked to your landlord about your moving.” Jared remembered. “They said not to worry about it.”
“Oh! All that stuff?” Salome chuckled. “None of it matters any more.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“It’s not important anymore. It doesn’t matter.” She laughed. “It’s just stuff – and STUFF doesn’t matter. People matter. YOU matter. And your brothers, they matter. But stuff doesn’t matter. I want to get rid of it – sell it, give it away, it doesn’t matter. I don’t need to drag it around with me. I don’t NEED it. I’m free of it!”
“Well….”
“Yes!” Her eyes lit up with a new idea. “That’s it! Sell it. Sell as much as possible and give away the rest, except the few things I’ll need for living simply. And keep all the stuff regarding your father and you boys. Actually you should each take whatever of your father’s stuff you want. He would want you to have it. And take whatever you want of your own stuff. But empty the house as much as you can, I don’t really need very much.”
“If you’re sure…”
“I’m sure! That’s one thing I learned – people are far more important than things. Things aren’t important at all. Only people, and how you treat them, is important. That, I have learned.” She was thoughtful for a moment. “You are such a sweet boy, you always were, and I never noticed. I’m so sorry.”
“That’s okay, mom.”
“No, it wasn’t okay. I was nasty and mean to you – far more than I was to your brothers.”
“Oh, I told them about the accident. Tom said he could come this afternoon. Ron can’t make it till this evening.”
“That’s fine. You’re the one I want to be with now. I made you work so hard. I’m so sorry. I love you so much. I never thought about what I was doing to you. I’m sorry. I should have taken care of you more than I did. You didn’t need to do my work. I was supposed to be the mother, not you. I’m so sorry.”
Jared began to cry. It was such a relief to finally hear his mother say what he had thought all of the time he was growing up.
“Go ahead,” she caressed him as she cried too. “You can cry, it’s a good thing to cry. I was wrong about that too.”
“I tried so hard,” he said through his tears.
“I know,” she said softly.
“It was never good enough.”
“I know, I’m sorry about that too.
“I was just a little boy…”
“And I insisted you do my grownup work. I know…”
“It was so hard…”
“It was too hard. I’m so sorry, so sorry…”
There was a gentle knock at the door and a uniformed face looked in.
“How are we doing this morning?” The nurse asked briskly as he walked in.
“Better.” Salome answered. “I feel better.”
“That’s good.” He smiled. “I need to take your temperature and check your pulse to see how your heart is doing. Not so many people get off so lucky, you know?”
“I know.” Salome answered. “I’ve been very lucky, very fortunate.” She smiled at Jared and tightened her grip on his hand. “I get a second chance.”

Thank you to Duane L. Herrmann for writing and sharing this story with us!

The post Second Chance – A Spiritual Story about Forgiveness By Duane Herrmann appeared first on Spiritual Growth Events.

My planned arrival time had been afternoon, but after weather delays at Metro and a chaotic rental car crowd reminiscent of the shopping scene from that Arnold Schwarzenegger movie, “Jingle All the Way,” I would enjoy no egg nog until eight p.m. at best. The four-lane road was packed with a healthy layer of snow, but the plow had obviously been by earlier. I had to be pretty close now, but everything had that familiar-yet-not look to it. I started rolling again, street lights helping me peer left across three lanes and a median at snow-crusted street signs for Harrison Avenue. Without warning, the right front tire sank into a pothole the size of Lake Michigan, and I quickly swerved the sub-compact to protect the rear wheels.

I really wasn't prepared for Christmas; certainly not one like Mom had planned. Wearing a medium jacket, no hat and no gloves, I had fully acclimated to my new home in Tallahassee. Even my snow boots, unused since I’d moved south, still rested in dust back in my closet. I imagined myself a thousand miles away in my favorite cushy chair, a bowl of chips and a bottle of root beer on the table, watching the game taped from Christmas Eve. That vision wooed my heart like a siren. But then I heard Mom’s voice in my head: “A fine celebration of Christ's birth, tinsel on the television!” Please don't misunderstand; I love my family, but I had rather enjoyed the previous year, my first Christmas on my own, spent quietly in my apartment without fuss.

The roads were still empty but for my slow-moving rental. “Harri—” in reflective letters caught my eye, and I rolled diagonally another five-hundred feet to the next left turn lane. In Detroit suburbs, a six-foot-wide raised median typically separates two-way traffic on divided roadways. At intersections, direct left turns are not permitted. If you discover you’re headed the wrong way or see your turn, you first must drive past through the intersection and make your way to a left turn lane without causing an accident, execute a u-turn, go back to the intersection, and then turn right onto the desired road. You have to turn around to get where you’re going.

As I made my way down Harrison Avenue and neared my old neighborhood, a faint memory surfaced of building snowmen with my brothers, along with our inevitable snowball fights. Driveways and mailboxes began looking familiar in my headlights. I passed the tiny corner store where I’d worked at my first job and recalled Mom enumerating who would be at the party.

“Uncle John is coming! He wants to hear all about your new job. And your cousins from Alpena, Tom and Donna, you know their little boy is three now? And big Uncle Ralph–remember he always slaps Daddy's back so hard? Oh my word! Oh, and I almost forgot Auntie Pat! She'll be beside herself when she sees you!”

Well, let me tell you as a matter of fact, Auntie Pat is beside herself most of the time. But she gives delightful hugs, and I do enjoy her special brie tarts. I could almost taste the buttery pastry crumbling in my mouth. On the other hand, to hear all the same old tales from Uncle John of ‘when I was an engineer….' didn’t thrill me. Conversations with Donna usually entailed questions like “So Ken, when are you going to… meet a girl… get married… start a family?” Many uncomfortable options to choose from.

Snow-capped porches and roofs on both sides of the street were adorned with pine garlands, red bows, lights, and the occasional ornament. One yard charmingly displayed an authentic (if rusty) sleigh resting in snowdrifts with lighted reindeer hitched to its reins. It took me a moment, but I recognized the annual set up as belonging to the parents of my best neighborhood friend growing up. Stoutly-proportioned snowmen stood proudly in many a yard as well, wearing unique wardrobes assembled from odd items of clothing. A small grin emerged on my face, and I turned left onto Calliope Place. Two blocks to go, and, despite my dread at revisiting stories and people predictable as a lake-effect snowfall, I realized a peculiar warmth was rising in my heart.

After parking on the street–judging from the crowd of vehicles, I was last to arrive–I trudged through six inches of fresh snow, stepping in footprints where I could, and gazed at my old house: a banana-yellow two-story with white trim and peeling muntin windows. The air was crisp and hushed. Powdered cherry trees edged the drive and the weathered porch steps still sagged–perhaps a bit lower now–under my feet. Reaching the top, I touched a column worn to bare wood from many a visitor's hand, and as I lingered there, my thoughts suddenly brimmed with vivid memories of bike rides and birthdays, tree forts and football games.

Taking a deep breath, I noticed snowflakes like tiny feathers begin meandering to the earth. I wasn’t sure how snow could have a smell, but it seemed to now, and the aroma was sweet. Strains of Bing Crosby and laughter and warm light seeped through curtained windows. I paused, savoring the glow, and was stunned at the lump in my throat. I heard Aunt Pat's unmistakable squeaky voice and chuckles of Uncle Jack and Dad as they certainly were teasing her, Mom chiding them to leave her sister be. I couldn’t suppress a laugh.

After a brief glance back at the beauty I had somehow missed on my way here, I silently thanked God for bringing me back home. Grateful for His grace, I lifted my hand and knocked.

Special thanks to Jeffrey Snell for sharing this spiritual story with us!

The post Spiritual U-Turns – A Spiritual Story by Jeffrey Snell appeared first on Spiritual Growth Events.

As we waited for the bus, my mother innocently asked me “David what would like more than anything else in the world?” (my father was still in Europe)

Without any forethought I said “I want to see a penguin!”

My mother rolled her eyes and said “Now David you must realize that penguins only live at the South Pole!”

At age 4 I couldn't differentiate the South Pole from the moon,” but I was adamant… I wanted a penguin!

Aunt Helen (a living saint now in Heaven) had a solution “Let's pray for a penguin.”

My mother a this look on her that spoke silently “What the hell are you promising Helen?”

Aunt Helen persisted “No, let's pray. I am sure enough you will see a penguin (didn't matter that it was 93 F. )”

We closed our eyes and prayed hard for penguins. When I opened my eyes, I looked across the street and there pulled up a station wagon. Out of it came five men and a driver. All of them were dressed in penguin outfits going into a photography studio for a Michelobe Beer commercial!

For years my mum and I both agreed – you pray and miracles happen.

Thanks to David Dodd for sharing his spiritual story with us!

The post Why Five Penguins Made Me Believe In Miracles – Spiritual Story by David Dodd appeared first on Spiritual Growth Events.

As he went down the road, he saw a rabbit. He shot at the rabbit and missed it. The rabbit ran away. Then he saw a squirrel and fired a shot at the squirrel and missed it. The squirrel disappeared into a hole in a cottonwood tree. As he went further, he saw a large wild Tom turkey in the tree, but he had only one bullet remaining.

A voice spoke to him and said, Pray first, aim high and stay focused.

However, at the same time, he saw a deer which was a better kill. He brought the gun down and aimed at the deer. But, then he saw a rattlesnake between his legs about to bite him, so he naturally brought the gun down further to shoot the rattlesnake. Still, the voice said again to him, I said ‘Pray, Aim high and Stay focused?

So, the man decided to listen to God's voice. He prayed, then aimed the gun high up in the tree and shot the wild turkey. The bullet bounced off the turkey and killed the deer. The handle fell off the gun and hit the snake in the head and killed it. And when the gun had gone off, it knocked him into a pond.

When he stood up to look around, he had fish in all his pockets, a dead deer and a turkey to eat for his family. The snake (Satan) was dead simply because the man listened to God.

Special thanks to Malladi for sharing this spiritual story with us!

The author of this spiritual story is unknown and greatly appreciated.

What Is the Spiritual Moral / Meaning Of the “Aim High” Story?

The story poignantly embodies the spiritual principle of divine guidance. It illustrates how amidst life's challenges, an inner voice, a guiding presence, can offer wisdom. The man grapples with choices, torn between various opportunities and dangers. In the midst of confusion, the voice of guidance emerges, offering a simple yet profound directive: “Pray first, aim high and stay focused.” This encapsulates the essence of spiritual guidance, reminding us of the importance of attuning to higher wisdom in navigating life's complexities.

Another spiritual lesson woven into this tale is the significance of surrendering to divine guidance. Despite encountering distractions and what seemed like better opportunities, the man chooses to heed the voice's counsel. In doing so, he aligns himself with something greater, surrendering his impulses and desires to a higher wisdom. This serves as a reminder of the transformative power of surrender and trust in a divine plan, even when it appears counterintuitive or challenging.

The story underscores the principle of trust in the face of adversity. The man encounters multiple obstacles, each seemingly diverting him from the original goal. Yet, amidst this chaos, the consistent message persists, urging him to maintain focus and trust. This spiritual principle mirrors life's trials, urging us to trust in the unseen, even when circumstances appear daunting or contrary to our expectations.

Another significant spiritual lesson is the interplay between intention and divine orchestration. The man's intention was to secure food for his family, yet the sequence of events unfolded in unexpected ways, seemingly beyond his control. This illustrates the intricate dance between human intention and divine providence. It signifies the notion that while we set intentions, the universe unfolds in its own mysterious ways, often guiding us toward outcomes beyond our initial understanding or anticipation.

Central to this narrative is the concept of divine intervention and blessings in disguise. Despite the man's initial struggle and the unexpected turn of events, the outcome was one of abundance and unexpected provision. What seemed like a series of unfortunate events culminated in a providential cascade of blessings—an array of sustenance for the man's family. This spiritual principle highlights the idea that within life's challenges, there might lie unforeseen blessings and provisions, reminding us of the mysterious ways in which the divine operates.

Finally, the story conveys the symbolic triumph of goodness over darkness. The snake, representative of malevolence or negativity, meets its end. Its demise aligns with the man's adherence to divine guidance and the eventual manifestation of blessings. This symbolizes the victory of light, goodness, and divine alignment over adversity and darkness, reaffirming the eternal principle of positivity and divine guidance prevailing amidst life's trials.

This story is a tapestry of spiritual lessons intricately woven into a tale of trials and unexpected blessings. It reminds us of the significance of divine guidance, surrender, trust, the interplay of intention and providence, hidden blessings within challenges, and the triumph of goodness. Each facet of this story serves as a beacon, guiding us toward deeper spiritual understanding and offering profound insights into navigating life's complexities through faith, surrender, and alignment with divine wisdom.

Personal Reflection Questions

Spiritual stories are an opportunity to reflect on your own life. Here are 10 questions you can use to go deeper with the teachings in this story:

1. Reflect on moments in your life when you faced seemingly insurmountable challenges. How does the story of the man with an old rifle and three bullets resonate with your own experiences of navigating adversity?
2. Consider the significance of the voice guiding the man: “Pray first, aim high, and stay focused.” How might these principles apply to your own decision-making process when confronted with choices and obstacles?
3. Explore the theme of unexpected turns in the story, such as missing the rabbit, the appearance of a rattlesnake, and the gun's handle falling off. How do these twists parallel the unpredictable nature of life, and what insights can you draw from the man's response to these surprises?
4. Contemplate the moment when the man faces conflicting options—a wild turkey or a deer. How often have you encountered situations where you had to make choices between seemingly good opportunities? What factors influence your decision-making in such moments?
5. Reflect on the symbolism of the rattlesnake as Satan and the man's choice to follow the divine guidance. How do you interpret the idea of listening to an inner voice or higher wisdom when faced with moral or ethical dilemmas?
6. Explore the concept of prayer as a transformative act in the story. How might incorporating a moment of prayer or reflection influence your own approach to decision-making and problem-solving?
7. Consider the interconnectedness of the man's actions—the bullet bouncing off the turkey, killing the deer, and inadvertently dispatching the snake. How does this interconnectedness reflect the intricate tapestry of cause and effect in your own life?
8. Delve into the symbolism of the man being knocked into a pond after the gun went off. How might this unexpected outcome symbolize the unpredictable consequences of our actions, even when guided by higher principles?
9. Contemplate the abundance that follows the man's adherence to divine guidance—fish in his pockets, a dead deer, and a turkey for his family. How does this resonate with the idea of unexpected blessings that may come from aligning one's actions with higher principles?
10. Reflect on the overarching message of the story—listening to God's voice leading to unexpected blessings and overcoming challenges. How can you incorporate the essence of this story into your own life, embracing guidance from a deeper source and navigating challenges with faith and focus?

The post Aim High – A Spiritual Story About Listening To God appeared first on Spiritual Growth Events.

His grandson wanted to be just like him and tried to imitate him in every way he could. One day the grandson asked, “Baba, I try to read the Quran just like you but I don't understand it, and what I do understand I forget as soon as I close the book. What good does reading the Quran do?”

The Grandfather quietly turned from putting coal in the stove and replied, “Take this coal basket down to the river and bring me back a basket of water.” The boy did as he was told, but all the water leaked out before he got back to the house. The grandfather laughed and said, “You'll have to move a little faster next time,” and sent him back to the river with the basket to try again.

This time the boy ran faster, but again the basket was empty before he returned home. Out of breath, he told his grandfather that it was impossible to carry water in a basket, and he went to get a bucket instead.

The old man said, “I don't want a bucket of water; I want a basket of water. You're just not trying hard enough,” and he went out of the door to watch the boy try again.

At this point, the boy knew it was impossible, but he wanted to show his grandfather that even if he ran as fast as he could, the water would leak out before he got back to the house.

The boy again dipped the basket into river and ran hard, but when he reached his grandfather the basket was again empty.

Out of breath, he said, “See Baba, it's useless!”

“So you think it is useless?” The old man said, “Look at the basket.”

The boy looked at the basket and for the first time realized that the basket was different. It had been transformed from a dirty old coal basket and was now clean, inside and out.

“Son, that's what happens when you read the Quran. You might not understand or remember everything, but when you read it, you will be changed, inside and out. That is the work of God in our lives.”

Special thanks to Meenal for sharing this spiritual story!

The author of this spiritual story is unknown and greatly appreciated. If you know who wrote this, or can provide a source that we can cite then please contact us and let us know!

The post A Basket of Water – Islamic Spiritual Story appeared first on Spiritual Growth Events.

The reporter from Health & Efficiency looked up to the Mother Superior as she began her speech of introduction. This assignment certainly made a change from the usual reporting of the latest naturist club or clothes optional holiday!

“Welcome to Laylum Abbey. It's a pleasure to see so many of you here. Perhaps your old orders were glad to see the backs of you…” she paused to let the laughter die down.

Sister Susan bit her bottom lip and chuckled. The H&E photographer managed to capture the rising and falling of her shoulders as she remembered the dressing downs she been given by her previous Mother Superior:

“Sister Susan, how many times must I remind you. Sex is a sin. We have taken vows of chastity and purity.”

“Yes, reverent Mother” she'd sighed. The simplicity of the live she'd taken to, the regular praying, the hard physical work in the garden, even the lack of male company, but every so often she needed touch. She needed to express that part of her that was most definitely female. It didn't seem natural to deny these feelings.

Susan shook her head to clear the memories and to concentrate once again on the head of the new order:

“We here are real women” She paused again, this time for cheers. “We acknowledge that God has given us breasts. We acknowledge that our sensuality is part of our being. To deny it is as much of a sin as to deny the beauty of the flowers and trees.” She looked around to see all the smiling faces and vibrant individuals. It was not her intention to build an order of closeted clones. These ladies must be allowed to live fully, to know their true being. Her eyes moved to the bemused reporter and brought her back down to earth.

“We have one major hurdle to over-come” she went on, her face becoming serious: “We are going to be misunderstood. We are going to be accused of holding full-time orgies, we are going to be threatened, propositioned and ridiculed. We must give the outside observers no cause for such accusations. We must show, by words and actions that we are not nymphomaniacs . . . we are naturists.” She looked amongst her flock to get a feeling for how this had gone down. Most of the women sat at the benches were thoughtful. Sister Fiona, she noticed, sniggered; she made a mental note to keep an eye on her.

As the weather warmed up, habits were shed and the sisters wore as much, or as little, as they needed to feel comfortable. Those on duty in the wash-room were well pleased. Maybe a few more towels to see to, but their work load was well down. As the days got brighter and the sun hotter, many sisters went back to wearing their head gear – they made very good sun-shades!

Wendy, the H&E lady, came back regularly to see how they were getting on and to provide a regular feature for her magazine. At first she'd not taken them seriously, agreeing with the sceptics that it wouldn't last, that it would only be a matter of time before some scandal would force this ‘experiment' to close. When she first saw the nuns wearing their wimples, but nothing else, she just stood and gaped. All her years reporting on naturist from Norway to Norfolk had not prepared her for this. There was such a feeling of natural energy that emanated from them. It was not the innocence that she saw in child naturists on the beeches, it was more than that. Besides, these ladies were no innocents. Many knew more positions from the Kama Sutra than she did . . and that was saying something. They were naked and yet they were respectable; just not into ‘that sort of thing'.

She had thought that most of the naturist she met in clubs were natural and above the sleaze, but here it was at another level. She was pondering the difference as the Mother Superior joined here. She looked deep into Wendy's eyes: “Does it appeal to you?”

Wendy stared into the warm, welcoming, face and felt drawn by the sheer love that she saw there. She nodded. Only after five minutes of this did Wendy notice that this religious leader was naked . . except for a pair of sandals which she'd put on for gardening in. Wendy watched spellbound as the reverend mother picked up a basket and seemed to float onto the vegetable patch. Peacefully and with respect, she picked the runner beans that would form part of their evening meal.

Close to the abbey building a shower (solar heated of course) had been installed. As Wendy watched, Sisters Susan and Fiona returned from their task of mucking out the various animals, their bodies splattered with muck of one
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sort or another. The shower was turned on and they let the warm water flow over them. Susan passed a bar of home made soap to her co-worker “Do my back will you?” Fiona took the soap and worked up a good lather on her hands and applied it to the back of the other girl: first briskly, to remove the sweat and grime, then more gently. As the movements of her hands became caresses Susan turned round and gave a deep satisfied sigh as her sensitive skin received a loving massage. Smiling serenely she took the soap back and returned the compliment.

Again Wendy stood open mouthed. Here, in the garden of a nunnery! The reverent mother glided over and slowly shook her head, smiling “Can you think of a better way of loving each other?”

It was Wendy's turn to shake her head. She watched as Susan and Fiona disappeared into the sleeping quarter together, almost dancing in their joy.

“We wont see much more of them tonight” the Mother remarked, smiling at Wendy again.

Wendy looked around for other signs of such sexual exuberance but saw only nuns working away in the gardens, some singing quietly to themselves, others taking a few minutes rest under the apple trees.

“It's knowing how to keep it in perspective, that's the key” her guide explained. “I was worried about Fiona, but Susan's taken care of her. Helped her to put her love into everything she does. She used to be a prostitute you know. She gave her love the only way she knew. Then she had a bad experience with a client and joined a convent in Shropshire to try to forget it all – never did quite fit in there. But look at her now!”

Looking around Wendy saw other nuns busy and happy in their respective activities. They didn't consider them chores. Besides the gardening, cooking and laundry, a number worked in, and for, the visitors centre, that they ran: partly to help with the running costs, but also to help spread their particular message about God and nature.

Each day they opened a different part of the abbey up to the visitors, careful not to over expose any particular sister. There was no rule about dress on open days, it was up to each nun to decide for themselves. The public knew what to expect. Few of the sisters took much notice of the open mouthed visitors. The avowed ladies carried on with the weaving and painting, smiling, laughing and talking to those who wanted to

At first there had been problems. Youths coming to ogle. But the sisters merely looked the young boys in the eyes. Few continued their cat-calls after that. To one or two of the persistent voyeurs an invitation was offered “Strip off and join us”.

“Better to have converts” the Mother Superior had argued … but most of the lads had run away never to be seen again.

Wendy had done them proud with tasteful photos and a very positive series in the naturist press. She'd done quite well out of it, selling her story to the national weekend magazines. It wasn't long before the Sport and Sun were poking around trying to find an angle for their ‘readers.' The sisters took it all in their stride, smiling sweetly at the cameras. They knew that by sticking to natural poses, that they would come across as open people, not as sex objects. They were above board … the gutter press soon lost interest.

As with many religious orders they relied on the skills of their members as painters, and potters. They sold photos and poems, and any spare produce. And they also ran workshops and offered counselling. Gradually they expanded their holistic services to include massage and herbal remedies, relaxation techniques and so on. Their reputation for bringing their visitors back from near breakdown to full health was growing. Professionals from all walks of life came and experienced, first hand, true naturism. Not only the physical freedom of feeling the sun and wind on a naked body, but the mental freedom from expectations. Back into conventional medicine, engineering, even politics, went rejuvenated men and women. Individuals changed for good by their brief stay at Laylum Abbey. In the past they, like their colleagues, would have got angry and frustrated over trivia, now they just remembered the sparkle in the eyes of the naturist sisters. Whatever the provocation, the response was the same … a warm smile.

Over lunch Wendy finally blurted out the questions that had been building up inside: “How? Why is it working so well?”

The Mother Superior laid her hand gently on Wendy's arm and smiled at her. “It's taken a long time. A lot of hard work. By all of us”. Wendy was still looking puzzled, so she went on “These eyes” she gave Wendy a sample of their brightness and sincerity “are windows from the souls. We have all been around on this world, and others. We have seen suffering, we have suffered. We have experienced desire … and the pain of loss. We have learnt that as everything is important, so nothing is that important. We live to love others, to share our knowledge. To help others to see the beauty in all things.”

Wendy felt the weight of the world lift from her shoulders and she cried. Tear of relief, of freedom, flowed freely. Her new friend gave her a long reassuring hug. She searched around for something on which to dry Wendy's cheeks:

“That's the one problem with going naturist” she said “There's nowhere to put a hankie!”

If you liked this story, you'll love this! We've compiled a list of the top 10 spiritual stories that our readers love. You can read them here.

This spiritual short story written by Keith Beasley shows how beautiful life becomes when we are are true to our selves, and that as we become one with that inner-most self, those who observe us become more respectful while expanding their own boundaries, and sometimes even thier expanding their consciousness. If you enjoyed this spiritual short story, then you might also like the book The Fifth Sacred Thing.

The post The Naturist Nuns – Spiritual Story by Keith Beasley appeared first on Spiritual Growth Events.

Days passed by and the day of tournament was coming near, but the boy suddenly stopped coming to the grounds. Then after 15 days he unexpectedly reappeared and asked his coach to let him play.

Although the coach was in a dilemma whether the boy could play, he decided to let him play. In fact, the team won as a result of the boy's significant contributions.

Later, the coach asked the boy how he could perform so well in spite of not practicing a single day. The boy said,

“Coach, my father was watching me.”

The coach was very clearly annoyed.

The boy then continued, “Sir I used to daily come with my father but he was blind. I stopped playing because I knew he couldn't see me play.

Recently my father died, and now I know that he can see me from the abode of God.”

SHIV KHERA is the founder of Qualified Learning Systems USA. An educator, Business Consultant, and a much sought-after speaker.

He has taken his dynamic personal message across the globe, from the U.S. to Singapore. His 25 years of research, understanding and experience has helped people on the path of personal growth and fulfilment.

The post The Boy and the Soccer Game – Spiritual Story by Shiv Khera appeared first on Spiritual Growth Events.

But where? Brahma called a council of the Gods to help him decide.

“Let's bury it deep in the earth,” said the Gods.

But Brahma answered, “No, that will not do because humans will dig into the earth and find it.”

Then the Gods said, “Let's sink it in the deepest ocean.”

But Brahma said, “No, not there, for they will learn to dive into the ocean and will find it.”

Then the Gods said, “Let's take it to the top of the highest mountain and hide it there.”

But once again Brahma replied, “No, that will not do either, because they will eventually climb every mountain.”

Then the Gods gave up and said, “We do not know where to hide it, because it seems that there is no place in existence that humans will not eventually reach.”

Brahma thought for a long time and then said:

“Here is what we will do. We will hide their divinity deep in the center of their own being, for humans will never think to look for it there.”

All the Gods agreed that this was the perfect hiding place, and the deed was done.

And since that time humans have been going up and down the earth, digging, diving, climbing, and exploring – searching for something already within themselves.

– Author unknown & greatly appreciated!

If you liked this story, you'll love this! We've compiled a list of the top 10 spiritual stories that our readers love.

The post When All Human Beings Were Gods – A Hindu Spiritual Story appeared first on Spiritual Growth Events.

Today is my birthday and what a great day I am going to have. I scheduled a vacation day today so I could spend the whole day doing things for myself. I have been thinking of this day for months, in fact I have been planning this day for months and it has finally arrived and its time to celebrate my birth.

As I awoke this morning, I lay in bed listening to the birds outside my window singing a birthday song just for me. I sat up and rested my head against the headboard of my bed, enjoying the magic of the morning. As I lay there breathing in the gift of life my mind drifted off to the activities that I had planned for myself. First thing I had planned was to get up and get my kids off to school, once that task was accomplished, I was going to make myself a fresh cup of coffee and then run me a hot bath with lots of bubbles, candles and incense and slip into the healing waters to release the stress of everyday life. I have been working so much over time at my job that it seems like I spend more time at work than I do in my own home.

I finally got my children off to school, put on a fresh pot of coffee to start my day, I prepared my bubble bath, put on some soothing music, poured me a cup of coffee, disrobed and slowly lowered myself into the healing waters to soak. As I lay there enjoying my quiet time, the day's events were running through my mind of how I planned on spending my birthday. The first thing on my agenda was to go get my hair, colored, cut and styled. Next I planned on taking myself to lunch to a fancy seafood restaurant uptown. Then I was going to hit the malls and buy me some shoes, perfume and jewelry and finally end my afternoon with a sappy love story at the movie theaters before having to go pick up my children from school.

As I was listening to my meditating music and enjoying my rich brewed cup of coffee, I heard a voice. At first I thought I imagined this voice, I thought maybe all the stress I had experienced all week from work was taking its toll on my mind. I tried to ignore this voice by turning up the music a little louder to drown it out, but sometime strange happened when I tried to turn up the music, the volume switch was not working and in fact the music I was hearing was not the music I put in to listen too. The music that filled my space sounded like angels singing. I stopped and listened to the sweet harmony of the invisible heavenly choir, when I heard the voice again. As I listened to this voice a feeling of peace and love filled my soul, tears welled up in my eyes and even though I was submerged in a hot tub of water, chills swept throughout my entire body. This voice was almost like a whisper, as though someone was trying to talk, but you could only hear the words from within the mind.

The voice said to me; “Happy Birthday, my child, this is how you will celebrate your birthday for today”. “First you will go give the gift of life, you will donate your blood. Next you will go purchase three flowers. Two yellow carnations and one red rose. Next you will go find someone to give those flowers to.”

After I listened to what the voice said to me, I busted out laughing. I said; “I'm not going to spend my birthday doing that, what are you, crazy?” This is my special day and I already have plans. Once again in a very sweet gentle tone, the voice gave me the same instructions as before and then said to me, “You are a very special spirit, you are loved dearly and you will do what you know is right”.

I laid there in my bathtub contemplating the words that were just spoken to me and listening to the heavenly choir of angels as the music faded into the ethers and my meditating music returned. What just happened? I asked myself. Was that for real? Did I imagine that conversation in my mind?

I got out of the tub and got myself ready for my birthday plans for the day. I left my house and was heading towards the hair salon when I came up to a red light. I stopped and instantly I heard that voice again, only this time it was not gentle and was not soft spoken, it was like I was being screamed at. The voice said to me in a very demanding tone, “Put your car in reverse and back up 50 feet away from the light” My first thought was, that's ridiculous, why would I want to do that?

Once again the voice demanded me to back my car away from the red light, so I obeyed the voice and put my car in reverse, first checking to make sure there were no cars behind me and as soon as I was 50 feet away from the red light, this truck came whipping around the corner at a very high speed and over corrected himself which forced his vehicle into the space where my car had been previously parked. As I sat in my car and witness what had just taken place, a quiver surged through my body as I realize that my life had just been protected from a dangerous situation. I sat there until the light changed to green then I slowly and cautiously drove though the intersection as my mind raced and my body shook.

The voice once again told me how I was going to spend my birthday and like a spoiled child I protested loudly and as I was having my mini temper tantrum my cell phone rang and it was the hair salon telling me that they needed to cancel my appointment. After I hung up the phone, I said in a very irritating voice, “Fine, you win thanks for ruining my birthday plans”. As I drove I tried to calm myself and change my attitude so that I would not ruin my own birthday. I drove east towards the blood bank and thought maybe if I hurried and did all the things that voice had told me to do for my birthday then I could still continue with my previous plans and still do what I wanted to do. You know how spoiled children are, always wanting their own way.

I pulled into the blood bank and went inside and filled out the paperwork to have my blood drawn. As I was waiting to be called back a phone call came into the center and the nurse on the phone asked if anybody in the center was O negative blood type. I told her that I was. She then asked me if I would be willing to drive to the children's medical center and give blood up there because there was new born baby that needed a blood transfusion and his life depended on it. I looked at her and remembered the voice telling me how I was going to spend my birthday and tears were running down my face as I told her, I would be honored to go up to the medical center and give the gift of life.

I was soon sitting at the children's medical center waiting for my blood to be drawn and it was then that I realized I had forgotten to tell the blood bank a very important piece of information regarding my blood type. I have given blood before and years ago when they tested my blood they found a very helpful RhD-antibody in my blood that helps with HDN. (Hemolytic disease of the newborn). As I sat in the chair watching the plastic bag being filled with my gift of life, my mind suddenly began to replay my magical morning and it was then that I realized that God works in mysterious ways.

After I left the blood bank, I had decided to go find the flowers that the voice had told me to buy. I walked into a grocery store and headed towards the floral department and as I walked into that section, directly on the shelf in a crystal vase, were two yellow carnations and one red rose. I picked up the gift, paid for it and walked to my car, wondering who I was suppose to give them to. As I sat in my car looking at the beautiful flowers, that spoiled child came out to play once again. She threw a fit and told me, “It's your birthday, I can't believe that you are going to give your flowers to someone else.” I sat there listening to that inner chatter and decided that she was right, it is my birthday and I am going to keep the flowers for myself, it was then that I looked to the north of were I was parked and noticed a rest home for the elderly and knew that someone in that place needed flowers.

I drove across the street and parked my car in the parking lot of the rest home. I got out with the flowers and walked into the office of the care center and asked the director if there was anyone who could use a visitor and who would love to have some flowers to brighten up there day? This director looked at me with tear filled eyes and said to me. “You're an answer to our prayers” She proceeded to tell me that there was a little lady by the name of Vivian who never has anyone come to visit with her and she could use a visitor.

I walked down the hall with the director and was introduced to a very special little angel by the name of Vivian. The director left me standing there in the door way of this women's room. I felt a bit uncomfortable because this little lady had never met me and when I told her I wanted to visit with her and give her flowers to brighten up her day, she growled at me in a very angry voice. She said to me; ” Why would you want to visit with a crabby old lady who you have never met, I don't even know you, so get out of my room.”

I stood there for a minute and almost left. Then I said to myself, “Ok God. This is your idea, you take it from here. You better soften this womens heart or I'm out of here.”

As soon as I thought those words, the little lady said to me, “What kind of flowers did you bring me”? I told her that I had carnations and roses and when I told her that ,she broke down and started to sob uncontrollably. When I seen her reaction, I went over to her and sat on her bed and held her in my arms as she wept. She cried for a long time as I handed her tissue after tissue to catch her tears. Then she looked at me and said my dear husband used to buy me those flowers, two yellow carnations and one red rose and today would have been our 70th wedding anniversary. God does answer prayers.

It was then that I realized, I was an answer to many peoples prayers today. God gave me a message of how I was to spend my birthday and I listened to his words and by doing so, I gave a gift to many people, including one to myself. The gift I received was the most important gift of all, it was the gift of sharing the love that is inside me, with others instead of keeping it all to myself.

When God speaks, listen to that still small voice, follow the instructions given from within and by doings so we ourselves are blessed more than we could ever imagine. God's Angels on earth are really people who listen to the messages received and share that message with humanity.

Some words of advise: no matter how silly it all seems, even if it doesn't make sense to you at the time when you receive your message, trust in your higher power and see the blessing unfold right before your eyes.

If you liked this story, you'll love this! We've compiled a list of the top 10 spiritual stories that our readers love. You can read them here.

This spiritual short story written by Leslie Moon Blackburn © 2006. Leslie has always loved to write, ever since second grade, and now that love has manifested itself in the form of automatic writing (a form of channeling). She received this gift from God after a series of life challenges that ultimately brought her away from the religion she previously associated with and closer to her God source energy, and she is grateful to be able to share her gift with others.

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