When I was a child, I believed in Santa Clause, the Easter Bunny, and God. (Not necessarily in that order since I am a product of Catholic School.) Believing was easy when I was young and never questioned theology.
In my teens, high school and friends occupied my time. I knew Santa and the Bunny didn't exist, but I still believed in God. (Although I did question my Faith.}
Later in life, a series of emotional and physical problems left me battle-worn. Added to the mix was my search for that God I had believed in. Obviously, I was doing something wrong because my quest took me nowhere. So, I decided to just "keep an open mind and listen to my heart."
Then I had experienced a situation which left me distraught. I was at the point where I felt like I was on the edge and wished someone would just push me off.
I had a private office at work. One day I shut the door and really poured my heart out to God. All the pain, distress, fear, uncertainly, everything that was making me feel like a pressure cooker ready to explode, just spilled out. I invoked all that was holy to come to my aid.
What happened next is difficult to explain, but I'll do my best. I felt something go through my body - it was awesome. There was immediate relief and I was void of anything negative or upsetting. I felt like I could cope with anything. My body was soaked in tranquility and peace. It was like someone gave my soul a great big hug - a big, warm, tender hug. There was a wonderful presence in the room and I remember saying, "Whoever is with me, thank you so much." I was shocked at what had happened - pleasantly shocked.
There was nothing I had done in my life to deserve such a beautiful experience. And, fortunately, that was not the last time I was the benefactor of that gift.
Since that incident, I no longer believe in God; I KNOW God exists. The reason I know that is that I felt His presence. And for what it's worth, I want to share my experience with you.
Read more articles by Veronica Mello or search for articles on the same topic or others.
