I grew up in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida, with my mother and two sisters. I was the sister in the middle. My mom was a wonderfully humorous and upright woman whom I greatly admired, but she did little to nurture her spirituality or that of her children. I had never gone to church, nor had I read The Bible or had a religion. Even so, as a young child I felt God's presence hovering nearby, and wherever I went I knew he followed. I came to depend on his watchcare, his guidance and training, his patience and sense of humor. We developed an unceasing, informal dialogue.
In my early teen years I began searching to know more about this God of mine. I visited churches of various denominations, not knowing what I was looking for but confident that I would know it if I found it. I read parts of the Bible before turning to Indian and Eastern philosophy. I visited the world of Carlos Castaneda. I meditated, prayed, became a minimalist and a vegetarian; I did whatever I thought it took to enhance myself spiritually.
At 16 I found a job in a vintage clothing store. The owner and I would launch into lengthy discussions about people, the world, the universe, and the purpose of life. Sometimes I would find him sitting at his desk reading a big blue book. I looked over his shoulder at words that seemed complicated and foreign. In response to my inquiries, my boss/ friend told me the book had been written by various celestial beings. I knew I had to know more about this book that dared to make such a claim. He soon found me sitting at his desk reading his big blue book. I would scold him whenever he'd take it home and forget to bring it back the next day.