Guest Author - Linda J. Paul

Christians use the term “born again” to define a process of giving one’s life totally to Christ and his teachings. It is in essence a personal relationship with Jesus. Sometimes the process can be very dramatic and extremely emotional. Many Christians have told me that being “born again” was the most profound experience of their lives. It transforms their lives and allows them to make a spiritual metamorphosis from ordinary to sublime.

I am not a Christian, nor have I been “born again.” And, in my own particular case, I don’t feel the need to follow that pathway. But, I can honestly say that I have been through a similar experience of spiritual metamorphosis. My metamorphosis was a clarity of understanding, a willingness to open up and learn, and the conscious effort to see the small miracles unfolding daily in my life.

I have learned to listen instead of to speak, to have compassion for those who are less fortunate, and to act from love instead of ego. I have also learned that life is not all about me and my wants and needs. Giving is much more spiritually rewarding than receiving. The most important milestones for me have been to learn patience, tolerance and understanding in situations where I feel that I am totally in the right and everyone else in the wrong.

My best teachers were the very people that made me work the hardest to gain their respect, trust and love. They were the ones who questioned my motives, pointed out my lack of virtues, and totally reduced me to tears. My two ex-husbands fit that description. And today, they are still two of the most important people in my life. I love them both, and honor them for the lessons they shared with me. But, I also know that neither one of them or myself could have grown spiritually in a marital relationship.

Sometimes, I had to give up things that I loved and cherished the most. But, in that sacrifice was always a rare and beautiful gift to the spirit. Loss of any kind is difficult for the human spirit to endure. We feel angry and alone when things that we cherish are gone from our lives.

My dark night of the soul was about ten years ago. I was living in Maine with my husband and two young sons. Our other four children lived in nearby towns and would visit regularly. We had been through some very difficult times, and consequently had to declare bankruptcy. We lost our home and moved into a small apartment. My marriage was not working out. My husbands sense of spirituality and mine were universes apart, and there was a complete breakdown of communication. I was struggling to hold the family together when I got the phone call that changed my life.

My mother called one night. She had terminal cancer and was expected to live for less than a year. I had an older brother who was mentally retarded and lived with my mother, and her concern for him was overwhelming. My mother was usually a very strong, confident and independent woman, who valued her privacy. I was quite surprised when she quite forcefully demanded that I move to Connecticut to be with her. She wanted us to build an addition on her home and move in with her.

Against my better judgment, but knowing that this was something I had to do, I complied. The boys were finishing up their school year in Maine, so the commute each weekend was a four hour drive in each direction. My mom went into the hospital soon after I arrived in Connecticut for an extended stay, so I also had my brother to care for. Needless to say he was very upset and concerned about the situation.

To make a long story short, within that year I moved, lost a good paying job, became a full time caretaker, and got a divorce. My teenage boys insisted on returning to Maine and living with their father until they finished high school, the house was torn apart in mid February due to the building of the new addition, and I was still traveling back and forth to Maine on weekends.

I was exhausted all the time, mentally, emotionally and physically. My mom decided to stay at home during the last months of her life, and even with help from Hospice, it was a difficult situation to deal with. My brother did not understand what was happening and began to have seizures once again. Eventually, I had to make another very difficult decision concerning him. I had to let him go to a nursing facility at the age of 54.

Looking back now, I don’t know how I made it through that time with both emotions and spirit intact. But I did. Since then, I have met my life mate. He is a gentle, kind and spiritual man who supports and loves me with all of his spirit. I would not have met him had I not moved to Connecticut.

My sons finished high school and came to Connecticut to settle down. One lives with me, and the other lives close by with his girlfriend. My ex husband came to live in Connecticut and is now living with a woman who adores him. My other children visit often.

My brother became a celebrity at the nursing facility, coming out of his shell and blossoming in a way he never could at home. On a sadder note, he passed way a few years ago.

I have a good job and friends that love me. And, getting to know the work of Hospice when my mom was ill led me to become a Hospice volunteer. I love my life now, and I feel totally blessed.

Metamorphosis of the soul is never an easy thing. But, if we just allow it to happen… we enter into the cocoon as a caterpillar and emerge as a beautiful butterfly ready to take flight.

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