The Question of the Existence of God...

This is supposed to be a free world we live in... I did say supposed to be... At least within us. We all have the right to have a point of view on everything going on around us.

There are those who are devoted to religion. Others are atheists. We each have our reasons for that.  

One evening, some years ago, we were discussing the existence of God with my mother, Angel and the Ex. My mum, who'd noticed me taking a long breath, said: "Darling, with each long breath you take, make sure you thank The Lord for your blessings." Then, surprisingly she went on to ask: "How can we accept God when there is famine, misery and so much injustice going on around us? Why is God not helping these people?"  

My immediate answer was: "I've always lived with God, laughed with him and cried with him. Now, when there's that feeling of being safe, knowing that He's looking over me, loving me and helping me find my path through the ups and downs life throws at us, then why not? Why take that wonderful, heart-warming feeling away from me? The world would seem awfully cold and meaningless, otherwise. And it is as simple as that. There is definitely an energy out there, which I can feel deeply, giving me a positive attitude towards any situation. I have the choice to make the changes and so, I choose to believe in Him. A mother's despair in Africa, not being able to feed her child with even her own milk for lack of nourishment, is a sense I'm not aware of in any way. My sadness about people dying of hunger and everything else that goes on around us in this world, I have no answers to. But at least, I can be grateful for my life."  

Angel nodded in agreement with the simplicity of my answer.

I would love to share a story with you about my realisation that miracles do happen to us daily.
They do not all have to be about parting the seas as Moses did.

Let me continue...

It was during one of the workshops with my therapist and a group of twelve, that I recall clearly telling everyone about this miracle.  

I had arranged to see a psychic who could see spirits. I should say that I did stop going to fortune tellers and psychics later when I realised that, if they were to predict a good happening, I would rather wait and find out with the excitement of the unknown. And, if they want to say something unfortunate, then I sure don't want to waste my time worrying about it before it takes place. In any case, if they were so good, why is it they don't sort out their own lives? 

Driving to the psychic, when parking my car, I kept thinking that my grandfather was waiting for me in spirit as he had passed away years before. But the feeling was so strong in me that I rushed to the place and was directed to a door. I entered, after knocking, to see a frail, older lady looking towards me with a smile. She said immediately: "My dear, your grandfather has been here waiting for you!"

I rushed to the seat opposite her with no hint of surprise. "I know he is."

She went on to say: "He's looking after you and no harm shall come to you physically."

I soon became oblivious to the rest of the things she went on to say. It all went right over my head. I did not want to hear any more. It made my heart warm with my thoughts drawn to the gentle and kind man that he was. So loving.

This was during the time my grandmother had a stroke, back at home. So, I decided to visit my family with my children. It was only after long arguments with my husband, who did not approve of me taking the kids, that I packed our bags and went 'home' with them for two weeks, against his wishes.

My mother was looking after my grandmother who was half paralysed, lying on a bed in my grandfather's library where he'd welcomed many literary people in his day. As soon as we arrived I could feel her joyful spirit, despite what was going on. It made us smile to feel the warmth of all the love that surrounded us. My grandmother, Serene, was so happy to see us. She smiled and hugged us each with open arms - as much as her limited movement would allow. The woman who'd worked in their house for forty years made us laugh with her special sense of humour. She was part of the family and was always ready to make jokes or imitate grandma's friends in front of them, which no one took to heart.

My mother always had such a positive attitude towards life. Every time anyone asks her how she is, Angel answers: "I'm feeling wonderful. Fantastic. You?"

One day, she told me to get the children ready and take them to a friend's country house, where we could all go for a swim in a fresh spring-watered pool. We eventually got to the place, making it through rough, bumpy roads. My mother drove us in her old automobile which was almost falling apart. We just made it to the house with steam pouring out from under the bonnet.

There was an old-style house on the right of the vast plot. Then a few stairs on the left took us through a stone arch to a swimming pool with a concrete surround and wildflowers growing all around it. The water was dark, fed by a natural spring which flowed down from a higher level on the right side. The children were delighted and we all jumped into the pool to enjoy our swim in the blazing sunshine.

There was something very spiritual about the scenery. All we could hear was the sound of the water flowing into the pool and the birds singing all around us. On the far side, we could see two hills. It was like a scene from the series 'High Chaparral'.  "Are the Red Indians going to appear from behind those deserted hills?' I asked myself. We were floating in the water in absolute serenity when I started telling my mother about the experience I had at the psychic's back in London. She let out a sigh, going through her thoughts of what I can only imagine was her dear father.

After our swim, I told my children to climb the small hill and go under the waterfall-like spring where I could wash their hair. I had brought shampoo with me... Honestly, the marvels of motherhood! You think of everything! At that moment, my mother got out of the pool and went to the top of the hill close to us and I asked if she could hand me my Girl's flip-flops. But before she moved, it was as though a force had picked her up and thrown her off the small cliff. I watched as she rolled down the stoney hill in total shock without being able to do a thing. She stopped, lying with her back on the risen cement where the water went through to enter the pool. Then got up and climbed up again before I could utter a word.

At that precise moment, I felt my grandfather's spirit there with us and she went on to say with childlike excitement: "My father was here. He just held me."
"I know," I cried, "I felt him."

We both cried and held each other without any further words, knowing that he was certainly there with us in spirit.

Our stay with my family lasted one week and sadly, that was the last time I saw my gentle, sweet grandmother - Serene. She is resting in peace I am sure. Amongst many lessons, she taught me was how to be hospitable. One evening when we all sat at dinner, a family of five; Grandma's friends, rang the doorbell. Serene smiled and went on to greet them in her usual kind manner, asking for some chairs and plates to be added to the dining table and insisting they had to join us to eat. Now, living in London for so long, where everyone has to call and make appointments to meet even close friends, days or weeks ahead, this seemed rather unexpected. Later, I found Serene in the kitchen and asked her innocently: "Grandma, don't people call before they knock at your door?"

She smiled and with her hand waving in the air, answered gently: "Darling you and your Western ways. Please save me that. This is God's home, an open house. Everyone's welcome here. Any time."  

And that was how we were raised. As the Spanish say...  Mi casa, tu casa. My home is yours.

Their house had so much spirit and my mother is now living there with great joy.    

I keep drifting from my stories... That's me! haha...

So, on the way coming back to the capital after our stay with grandma, we spent a few days with my brother Soltan, before flying back to London. As we were on the aeroplane coming back, I looked up at the perfectly blue sky and started my conversation with God.  

"Dear Lord, don't let my grandma suffer."  

Something came over me and my naughty side rose so I continued on: "How about, Dear Lord, you show me a miracle to say you are here for me? Let's see now..."

Great. Knowing that it almost never rains here in the summer. Especially as we are right in the midst of it now... "How about you show me some rain tomorrow afternoon."

Then I giggled, still looking up towards the sky and said: "God, I was just kidding. I have all the blessings in my life. Let's just forget what I said. You know I can be a little crazy at times."

We landed and I forgot about my silly miracle request, which would be a real miracle if it happened. Was I out of my mind asking such a request? Sure, wha'ever! God knows me, I don't have to explain further.

However...  yep... However, I got my swimsuit on and while the children were playing somewhere in the building with the neighbours' kids, I went to lie by the pool for more suntan! Looking up at the clear blue sky with the temperature rising to almost forty degrees, I almost spilt the bottle of Hawaiin Tropic oil all over my skin and lay there on a towel on the ground. Some time passed before I started to feel a few drops of water on me. With wide-open eyes, I could see a few splashes of rain all over the pool. The thought of my plea the day before hit me.

It cannot be... It must have been the few puffs from a joint I had before! I thought. So I ignored the signs and went on sunbathing. It all stopped within a few short minutes. 

Soltan came along and mentioned lunch at Dad's the following day. As he was standing above me and I was sitting on the ground looking up at his face with a hand above my eyes to protect them against the scorching sun, I saw behind him in the sky, clouds approaching fast above us and to my disbelief, it started raining again. This time it was stronger. My brother stopped and looked up to say: "What? Is it actually raining?!?"

By then, my tearful eyes and my staring gaze at the sky, to God, took my brother's notice.

I was crying. He asked what was wrong and all I could say was: "Soltan, even if I told you, you're not gonna believe this."  And went on to tell him of my request.  

"Wow...  You're freaking me out, sis. I'm going in."  He said, knowing very well that miracles do happen.  

I felt the rain on my body and in my soul. It was pouring down and there must have been the biggest smile of gratitude on my face. It stopped after a few minutes and I went in.  My friend Maha called on the landline shortly afterwards to arrange dinner. Before saying goodbye, it occurred to me to ask if she had seen the rain. After all, she only lived a few minutes away and this was not usual.

"Rain?  She asked as though I had asked if she had spotted a flying carpet. "No." She replied coldly.

"That's fine," I said.  

Obviously, the rain was for my eyes to see and for my soul to feel loved and protected. Thank you, Universe for that experience. This was where I noticed miracles can come to us large or small. Whenever something makes me smile, it surprises me: those unexpected times when I bump into someone special who I haven't seen in a long time; that beautiful butterfly touching the tip of a flower. These are the miracles of life. After all, how can a tiny whirly sperm, from the action of two humans' bedding, develop into a complex human being? With all of our intricacies, and more abstruse than any computer could possibly build, surely, there must be 'A Creator' to all this? 

We are the miracles of God.

On that note...  

"Go to bed girl," I keep telling myself. Between my long hours of dancing this weekend and working on a project... The wonderful dinner party on Sunday, the trainer this morning and the short sleeping hours, it is a pure passion that has me writing this blog... 
I'm Exhausted!  

God Bless you All.