Spiritual Autobiography 14

This would be my first trip abroad. All the middle class Boomer kids had done Europe in their late teens and early twenties, but they all had the blessing of the bank of Mom and Dad to sustain them so they didn't have to worry about paying rent or actually having to work for something other than their university tuition, such as survival. But with my rough start in adult life I had to settle for straight survival which also pretty well kyboshed any hopes for university graduation. So, at thirty-five, following the death of my mother and the likely failure of my Christian community, I went abroad to see if I could start anew, or at least find an obscure place to quietly cease to exist and never have to face people at home again, nor the shame and humiliation of how destroyed this beautiful vision had become. I brought a new friend with me, an alleged AIDS sufferer who needed support and who also had to face the authorities in London. I have already written about this, as well as the thousands of my dollars that he extorted from me that went up his nose. But there was something about the whole dynamic that taught me humility. I felt strongly that there was a new door that Christ was going to be leading me through, but he was going to have to make me very small before I could fit through it. I also had an ongoing sense that God was going to take me with him into the High Places. I really didn't know (still don't) what that meant, but first becoming small enough to fit through that door would be the way of getting me there. I could only know that I was coming into something new. I finally found those high places in Scotland. I had learned the requisite humility while coping with Jeff, who finally was out of the picture. When I climbed up to the summit of Arthur's Seat in Edinburgh and felt new the baptism of God's presence I knew that I had met the Lord afresh and that I had just been strengthened and made ready for the next phase of my journey. One month later I had another such epiphany experience on my first day in Brussels, while wandering this huge triangle of boulevards that brought me into a large church at the summit where I rested, bathed in God's peace and joy. Altogether, I was away for two months and eight days, but I returned to Vancouver rather a different person. I felt more solid, more my real self. I also had the tatters of our community to help bind together as the two old women I had left behind had not been able to cope, and for a while, against my druthers, I was needed again.