Note from the Webmaster: This is the spot where I always post some interesting email thread that's floated across my desk in connection with SKS. Some past entries have included Bob Cergol's essay from the Templeton Power of Purpose contest (the same contest that Augie Turak won with his Brother John essay), and a variety of just philosophical email arguments we've had over the years.

In this case, what you're getting is a string of emails that I got quite out of the blue: a complete stranger named Janice saw the SKS Web site, and emailed to the Webmaster (me), and I emailed back, and over the course of a few emails, her remarkable life story came pouring out. For me, and hopefully for you, it is just a reminder of what an amazingly big world we live in—because I really do believe that every stranger you meet in the street, if you dig, has a story just a remarkable as this one.

As always, I have done a bit of minor reformatting, but the words are all just as they came through the email.

Where do I start about my Spirituality? I don't attend a church, because it is too organized and filled with gold and glitter. Jesus preached in tattered clothes to the poor and weary people who cared lived through his words and touch. His words were poetic, and if you really live through his Words, you begin to understand the non material wealth behind them.

My childhood was wonderful until my father died when I was 13 years old. He loved people and even took me to the jail once a month with the mayor of Worcester and two nuns from the Sisters of Charity orphanage. They were all ahead of their time in reform. He told me that he always wanted me to see beauty where it wasn't necessarily seen through our everyday vision. He wanted me to look behind and within others for their hearts and souls. My dad received the golden key to the city for his humanitarianism.

After my dad died, my mom, who was a beautiful woman, began drinking, and continued to do so well into her 70s. This environment was not nurturing, and things didn't get better when I married a Holy Cross basketball, baseball star who was charming at first, but as I began to discover too late, a narcissist. Is that when I began to look within instead of outside for beauty, comfort and giving to others? I know that when I was 12 years old, I read a book entitled Peace of Mind and after having read it, I still didn't have peace of mind. It wasn't given to me. I had to find my own way.

My father died at home on a Sunday morning. I always went into his room on Sunday mornings and we would read the Bible, talk about life and many other things. He was very sick at the end, so my mother slept in my brother's room while he was away at college. Friday night I watched him walk down the hall to his bedroom, and somehow, I knew that I would never see him alive again. Instead of going to his room that Sunday morning, I went to the kitchen to make breakfast. I can still remember the pink flannel nightgown I was wearing with a pink satin bow. Then, I heard my mother scream. I ran down the hall and my mother was sobbing saying "daddy is dead." My mother fell apart so I called my brother at college, the funeral home and the relatives. I went back to his room and felt his arm. He was very cold, so I covered him up. I can still remember them taking him away and could see his feet at the end of the stretcher under the shroud. I would sit on the banking in front of my house waiting for him to come home. He never did, but he never left my heart and sometimes my youngest daughter and myself can hear his soul.

I then trained for respiratory therapy at a Catholic Hospital. I had this inner spirituality and felt very comfortable in the chapel there by myself. I was preparing to become a nun, until I met my husband in his senior year at Holy Cross. He was a basketball and baseball star. We got engaged after a few months and married the next fall. He signed with the Chicago Cubs minor league and we traveled for a few years (he could hit as well as pitch and sometimes won his own games nearly by himself). However, he was much different after we got married and became mentally cruel. I think I missed this because I was used to this behavior with my mother's alcoholism and cruel stepfather. I did bring four wonderful children into the world, but became numb and hopeless. None of the political victories or anything else seemed to matter. I never had enough money, because my husband kept me on a tight allowance, so I baby-sat for other children to get money for food and clothes. I know now, that my husband is and was a narcissist. He would only converse with me if we talked about his life, etc. Then the hopelessness set in. I began to drink to numb the pain and ended up losing everything. I can remember sitting on my doorstep wondering how I would ever be able to go on with my life with nothing to look forward to except the will to live. That is another story, but somewhere in this abyss, I sat down with the children's water colors and said, "Please God I would like to paint something pretty." I painted an iris, with little or no effort which really surprised me but still the days became longer, and it was beginning to become impossible to find that spark in my life that went out somewhere in the past.

I got into a very bad car accident during a freak snowstorm on October 11, 1979. I hit a bridge and went through the windshield. I was unconscious when a passing motorist found me and called an ambulance. I was taken to Yale Hospital and they discovered that I had fractured my skull, my nose, had 80 stitches inside my mouth, fractured my sternum and three ribs. One of the ribs went through my lung and bruised my heart. I heard the doctors saying that they were losing me. Then they decided to cut off my new jeans to see if I had injured my knees since I had them wedged under the dashboard. Suddenly, I said loudly, "Oh no, you won't cut my new jeans!" That little incident brought back my fight to live. My blood pressure came back up, I spent a few days in the Intensive Care Unit, a week or so in the hospital and was released.

One night soon after that, I dreamed of a bright glowing light in which a fiery bird flew down with its wings on fire. It awakened me, and I felt as if I had seen my Father in the Spirit of a Dove. I painted the dove with magic markers. Then at Christmas time the next year (1985), I dreamed of a most perfect hand reaching down through a light to an outstretched crippled hand. I put that down on paper the next day with the words, "A crippled world reaching for strength and hope." "The Artistic Gift is a Double Edged Sword; Its Bright Light pierces your Soul," and finally, "Only when you truly give of yourself, unselfishly, humbly and totally, will you experience the release from Bondage." I am not saying that I heard these words out loud, but they seemed to flow from my hand. Thus, began my painting and poetry. It all seemed to come naturally and I have continually attempted to capture that Bright Light.

Well, enough for now. I have to go shopping and then pick up my daughter (my artistic soul mate) and my grandbabies for lunch and shopping. We do this every Saturday. It is a ritual that we all cherish.

You need not concern yourself with sending me a lengthy reply. I am writing to you, because I feel at home with you and SKS, and it time to memorialize that which may be helpful to even one other living soul. I am hoping that you might share this with anyone that might be searching for their own soul and peace of mind. I learned by fire, but it was necessary to enable me to grow, however scarred by the flames, and give back the gifts I believe that I have been given. They are humble gifts really, no fancy wrapping paper or satin bows, just one soul helping another. I used to think that a change of scenery, a new home and new acquaintances would help me to forget and go on, but it took a while to discover that I may be in a new place, but I had brought myself with me, the very person I didn't like. Finally, I volunteered my time back in the early 80s to cooking for the less fortunate men in a male halfway house. We invited their friends and/or family to join us for Sunday dinner. After a while, I was able to see the love in their eyes for me which was something I couldn't see before. That is when I made peace with myself. It was really so simple. Once we have made peace with ourselves, it all falls into place, no more searching for that which is outside of ourselves, but only to look within and be at peace with the silence of the Spirit. What a gift!

When my son was in college, Ursinus College in PA., he introduced me to his girlfriend. She was brilliant, pretty and seemed to have everything going for her, but I learned that she had been abused by her mother (an addict) all her life, and her stepfather was beginning to frighten her as well. I told my son, Gary, to bring her to our house for the summer break. Her mom used to call her several times a week and say horrible things to her. Finally, I said softly to her that she need not take that abuse anymore. She handed me the phone and her mom threatened me as well. I told her that I would be getting a restraining order against her should she continue in this manner. Bullies never expect that you will fight back (in the figurative sense). That is what gives them their power. She never bothered us again, and Jessica so enjoyed her summer with us that she asked what she could do for me. I told her just to help another and that would be payment enough. She and my son have gone their separate ways, but she still writes and visits me. She calls me mom II.

Yesterday, I was called by a coworker. One of the secretaries, who had lost her husband a few years before and never could accept it (who can?) was working as well. Her daughter and male friend came in and took her into the attorney's office. Suddenly, there were loud screams, sobbing. They were there to tell her that her beautiful 40 year old son was found dead in the hot tub that morning. I would give anything to ease her pain. This is a sad day, but by now he has touched the outstretched hand of God.