Spirituality Is For Those Who Have Already Been There Page 1 2 3

"Religion is for those who are afraid of going to hell. Spirituality is for those who have already been there." Collection of Spirituality Stories Cheryl's Home Webrings

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She was six years old when I first met her on the beach near where I live. I drive to this beach, a distance of three or four miles, whenever the world begins to close in on me. She was building a sandcastle or something and looked up, her eyes as blue as the sea.

"Hello," she said. I answered with a nod, not really in the mood to bother with a small child.

"I'm building," she said.

"I see that. What is it?" I asked, not caring.

"Oh, I don't know, I just like the feel of sand."

That sounds good, I thought, and slipped off my shoes. A sandpiper glided by.

"That's a joy," the child said.

"It's a what?"

"It's a joy. My mama says sandpipers come to bring us joy." The bird went gliding down the beach.

"Good-bye joy," I muttered to myself, "Hello pain," and turned to walk on. I was depressed; my life seemed completely out of balance.

"What's your name?" She wouldn't give up.

"Ruth," I answered. "I'm Ruth Peterson."

"Mine's Wendy... I'm six."

"Hi, Wendy." She giggled.

"You're funny," she said.

In spite of my gloom I laughed too and walked on. Her musical giggle followed me. "Come again, Mrs. P," she called. "We'll have another happy day."

The days and weeks that followed belong to others: a group of unruly Boy Scouts, PTA meetings, and ailing mother. The sun was shining one morning as I took my hands out of the dishwater. "I need a sandpiper," I said to myself, gathering up my coat. The ever-changing balm of the seashore awaited me. The breeze was chilly, but I strode along, trying to recapture the serenity I needed. I had forgotten the child and was startled when she appeared.

"Hello, Mrs. P," she said. "Do you want to play?"

"What did you have in mind?" I asked, with a twinge of annoyance.

"I don't know, you say."

"How about charades?" I asked sarcastically.

The tinkling laughter burst forth again. "I don't know what that is."

"Then let's just walk." Looking at her, I noticed the delicate fairness of her face. "Where do you live?" I asked.

"Over there." She pointed toward a row of summer cottages.

Strange, I thought, in winter. "Where do you go to school?"

"I don't go to school. Mommy says we're on vacation." She chattered little girl talk as we strolled up the beach, but my mind was on other things. When I left for home, Wendy said it had been a happy day.

Feeling surprisingly better, I smiled at her and agreed.

Three weeks later, I rushed to my beach in a state of near panic. I was in no mood to even greet Wendy. I thought I saw her mother on the porch and felt like demanding she keep her child at home. "Look, if you don't mind," I said crossly when Wendy caught up with me, "I'd rather be alone today."

She seems unusually pale and out of breath. "Why?" she asked. I turned to her and shouted, "Because my mother died!" and thought why was I saying this to a little child?

"Oh," she said quietly, "then this is a bad day."

"Yes" I said, "and yesterday and the day before and-oh, go away!"

"Did it hurt? " she inquired.

"Did what hurt?" I was exasperated with her, with myself.

"When she died?"

"Of course it hurt!!!!" I snapped, misunderstanding, wrapped up in myself. I strode off.

A month or so after that, when I next went to the beach, she wasn't there. Feeling guilty, ashamed and admitting to myself I missed her, I went up to the cottage after my walk and knocked at the door. A drawn looking young woman with honey-colored hair opened the door.

"Hello," I said. "I'm Ruth Peterson. I missed your little girl today and wondered where she was."

"Oh yes, Mrs. Peterson, please come in" "Wendy talked of you so much. I'm afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was a nuisance, please, accept my apologies."

"Not at all-she's a delightful child," I said, suddenly realizing that I meant it. "Where is she?"

"Wendy died last week, Mrs. Peterson. She had leukemia. Maybe she didn't tell you."

Struck dumb, I groped for a chair. My breath caught.

"She loved this beach; so when she asked to come, we couldn't say no. She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called happy days. But the last few weeks, she declined rapidly..." her voice faltered. "She left something for you...if only I can find it. Could you wait a moment while I look?"

I nodded stupidly, my mind racing for something, anything, to say to this lovely young woman. She handed me a smeared envelope, with MRS. P printed in bold, childish letters. Inside was a drawing in bright crayon hues-a yellow beach, a blue sea, and a brown bird. Underneath was carefully printed:

A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY

Tears welled up in my eyes, and a heart that had almost forgotten to love opened wide. I took Wendy's mother in my arms. "I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," I muttered over and over, and we wept together. The precious little picture is framed now and hangs in my study. Six words- one for each year of her life- that speak to me of harmony, courage, undemanding love.

A gift from a child with sea-blue eyes and hair the color of sand---who taught me the gift of love.

NOTE:

I hope you have a few Kleenex tissues in that box. The above is a true story sent out by Ruth Peterson. It serves as a reminder to all of us that we need to take time to enjoy living and life and each other.

"The price of hating other human beings is loving oneself less." Life is so complicated, the hustle and bustle of everyday traumas, can make us lose focus about what is truly important or what is only a monetary setback or crisis. This week, be sure to give your love ones an extra hugs, and by all means, take a moment... even if it is only ten seconds.

"GOD SPEAK TO ME..."

The child whispered, "God, speak to me"

And a meadowlark sang.

The child did not hear.

So the child yelled,

"God, speak to me!"

And the thunder rolled across the sky

But the child did not listen.

The child looked around and said,

"God let me see you"

and a star shone brightly

But the child did not notice

And the child shouted,

"God show me a miracle!"

And a life was born

But the child did not know.

So the child cried out in despair,

"Touch me God, and let me know you are here!"

Whereupon God reached down and touched the child.

But the child brushed the butterfly away

And walked away unknowingly.

- Author Unknown -

 Bare foot and dirty, the girl just sat and watched the people go by.

She never tried to speak, she never said a word. Many people passed, but never did one person stop. Just so happens the next day I decided to go back to the park, curious if the little girl would still be there. Right in the very spot as she was yesterday she sat perched on high, with the saddest look in her eyes.

Today I was to make my own move and walk over to the little girl. As we all know a park full of strange people is not a place for young children to play alone.

As I began walking towards her I could see the back of the little girl's dress indicated a deformity. I figured that was the reason the people just passed by and made no effort to help. As I got closer, the little girl slightly lowered her eyes to avoid my intent stare. I could see the shape of her back more clearly. It was grotesquely shaped in a humped over form. I smiled to let her know it was ok, I was there to help, to talk.

I sat down beside her and opened with a simple Hello. The little girl acted shocked and stammered a hi after a long stare into my eyes.

I smiled and she shyly smiled back. We talked 'til darkness fell and the park was completely empty. Everyone was gone and we at once were alone.

I asked the girl why she was so sad. The little girl looked at me and with a sad face and said "Because I'm different." I immediately said "that you are!" and smiled. The little girl acted even sadder, she said, "I know." "Little girl," I said, "you remind me of an angel, sweet and innocent." She looked at me and smiled, slowly she stood to her feet, and said, "Really?"

"Yes, ma'am, you're like a little guardian angel sent to watch over all those people walking by." She nodded her head yes and smiled, and with that she spread her wings and said, "I am. I'm your guardian angel," with a twinkle in her eye. I was speechless, sure I was seeing things.

She said, "For once you thought of someone other than yourself, my job here is done." Immediately I stood to my feet and said, "Wait, so why did no one stop to help an angel?"  She looked at me and smiled, "You're the only one who could see me, and you believe it in your heart." And She was gone. And with that my life was changed dramatically. So, when you think you're all you have, remember, your angel is always watching over you.

In association with books, music and videos recommended by Spirituality Stories.