When did you first realize you were not alone in the universe; that a mystery, a presence, a spirit of deep compassion was longing to guide and inspire you?

I was six years old. It was a sunny day, hot, as only Sacramento in the summer can be, probably 90 something degrees. Mom and Dad and my younger sister Wendy were inside our little two bedroom bungalow on Louisiana Street. I had brought my coloring books and crayons to the front yard and had placed them carefully around me in the shade of a large maple tree. I had a new box of 64 colors ready for my creative hand. The grass was cool under me, the shade, gentle and protective.

Inside, Mom and Dad were at truce in a painful battle of betrayal and disrespect. Dad didn't like women much and my Mom in particular. Mom was trying to somehow control the flow of life blood she saw seeping from their marriage. Inside, the house felt small, dark, the air too heavy and hard to breathe.

Outside the sun was shining on a perfect day and this little girl suddenly experienced a peace that completely contradicted the logic of the rest of her life. Jesus would call it a peace that passes understanding.

I didn't know much about Jesus at the time. We went to church, Mom and Wendy and I, but not regularly and never with Dad. Most Sundays we went to the Presbyterian Church. Mom liked to dress up and see the other folks in their Sunday finest. Sometimes we went to the Episcopal Church, the church of her English roots. Sometimes she liked to kneel when she prayed.

Maybe I had absorbed something from those Sunday visits. Certainly we never prayed at home. Oh, there was the "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take." That prayer only terrified me and kept me awake at night for fear of having my soul taken.

But that sunny day on my front lawn something happened. My shade tree became my Buddha's Bodhi tree. Many years later when I took to studying the mystics I discovered Julian of Norwich's simple mantra: "All shall be well. All shall be well. And all manner of thing shall be well."

She gave me the language that best described my experience that day with my coloring books and crayons. Somehow I knew I was not alone, that I would be protected and cared for, no matter what happened.

Mom's controlling rages would be focused on me, her oldest child. Dad's disdain and disrespect would eventually turn violent. Home would be a hard place to be. But I was not alone and that loving presence would remain a little girl's secret best friend, amorphous, undefined, nonreligious — a spirit of gentleness and peace that would hold me in arms of compassion and care and inspire me to believe in my value in spite of family messages to the contrary.

Paul, in his letter to the Colossians said, "As you have received Christ, so walk in Him." (Colossians 2:6). Those words have been a reminder to me, to never forget the sacred mystery of presence I experienced under a shade tree on Louisiana Street in 1955.

I go back to that experience for renewal, remembering the power and simplicity of that loving presence. My faith is not defined by theologies but rather by an unwavering and deep inner experience of the divine.

Thus begins my spiritual journey, a journey that John O'Donohue suggests is one inch long and miles deep. Can you map your journey? This has been my personal challenge at this crossroad in my life. As I explore the path I've taken I see more clearly the road that lies ahead. I invite you to join me: Where did your spiritual journey begin? Where has it taken you? Where are you headed?

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Rev. Kristi Denham is pastor of the Congregational Church of Belmont, California (United Church of Christ). Her email address is {email RevKristi@aol.com}RevKristi@aol.com{/email}. © copyright 2007 by Kristi Denham