It has been six weeks or so since the surgery to remove the hardware that held my back together for the last couple of years. During this recovery, it has been very interesting to watch my connection to G-d go missing and then slowly come back.

Here’s a bit of my history with G-d.

My very first memory in life is of standing in front of a gravestone, probably at the age of six, in Rock Creek Church Cemetery (we lived just outside of its gates), with my hand up saying, “I vow that I will never be like my father; and there is no God.”

As I grew up, I called myself an atheist. I enjoyed visiting places of worship. I loved religious architecture, art, and music. I had no judgement of others for their religious beliefs. They believed and I did not. That was all.

Then, in my late thirties, something changed. The hospital where I was working as a nurse had just closed and my next job hadn’t yet started. My first marriage had been empty for ten years. We were close to bankruptcy. I weighed 250 pounds. If you had asked me, I would have said, “I’m fine.” However, some curiosity had come over me. I wanted to learn about Buddhism, so I called a temple-monastery in town and the monk who answered the phone told me to come for a visit the following Sunday.

I showed up. I sat on a cushion on the floor. I heard beautiful chanting. I meditated for the first time. Within minutes tears began to flow down my face. One word repeated in my mind, over and over again. “Loss. Loss. Loss.” Suddenly, my body seemed to push out. Zzzzhupp! Zzzhupp! The container that had been holding in all feeling — physical, emotional, spiritual feeling — started to crack open. Something else poured in and over me like warm oil.

This Sunday’s Thought from Heather Lende’s blog puts it beautifully.

“When a wave of love takes over a human being, love of another human being, love of nature, love of all mankind, love of the universe, such an exultation takes him that he knows he has put his finger on the pulse of the great secret and the great answer.” — Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings in Cross Creek

Paradoxically, in practicing Buddhist meditation which does not take a position on the existence of G-d, I began to experience a connection to the G-d of my understanding… the One from whom all goodness flows.

Buddhist meditation, Quaker Meeting for Worship, Passover services, and a 12-step program for food addiction became my training ground. They didn’t give me an intellectual idea of G-d. They gave me an experience of G-d. So, when the really big thing happened, I had some innate understanding.

As I lay in the ambulance, I felt huge wings above the vehicle slowly beating. Something good was with me.

At my worst moment, on the ventilator, tied down, disconnected from everything familiar, traumatized, unable to tell everyone what to do and how to help me, I was so enraged that I decided to kill myself. I figured out how to do it. It was such a relief to know there was a way out. And suddenly –  Zzzzhupp! Zzzhupp! — I cracked open. G-d entered in the form of the Serenity Prayer. My new mind made a good meaning out of my circumstances. I felt peace… for the moment. Peace came and went during that first eight months or so of recovery.

After this recent surgery, I was disconnected again from the familiar, not so dramatically, but enough to lose contact with G-d. Gradually, week by week, prayer by prayer, with each 30 minutes of Quiet Time, I’ve entered back into the fold. Thank you, G-d.

So, I’m grateful. I know that when this connection is broken, it’s time for me to sit quietly. It’s time to notice… patiently. G-d is there, patiently waiting. I will return.

Love & Light,

Valerie