Who Am I?

A Spiritual Journal

by

Evelyn Donachie

Edited and with commentary by

Steve Donachie
 Contents
Foreword.....................................................3
Affirmation................................................14
Grounding..................................................15
A Deaconess...............................................18
Universal Energy.......................................20
Human Nature...........................................22
Discipline...................................................25
Children ....................................................27
Brotherhood..............................................29
Motherhood...............................................32
Mothers' Day..............................................36
Souls With Bodies......................................37
Middle Age.................................................39
Spiritual Growth........................................42
Fellowship..................................................45
Citizen of the World..................................49
Posterity and Creativity............................53
Birthday.....................................................55
Happiness..................................................57
Body, Mind, Spirit......................................59
Purpose......................................................62
Membership...............................................65
Cars and Fear.............................................67
How Big Is Your God?................................71
Housekeeping............................................73
Shyness......................................................75
Hand Work................................................78
Trinity, Unity, Trinity................................80
Illustrations................................................85
 Foreword

In 1975, the year she turned 51 years of age, my

mother, Evelyn Donachie, kept a month-long journal as
part of a spiritual exercise. Into these approximately 50
pages she poured all her highest aspirations for
becoming a better person, wishing only to learn how to
live closer to God and to nature, and to be of service to
her fellow human beings.

I was only 28 that year and preoccupied with my

own life. If she ever mentioned this journal to me I
forgot about it long ago. But it must have been valuable
to her. The pages were filed away in a rusty metal box
along with the deed to her house, insurance policies,
and assorted birth and death certificates. For that
reason I was able to discover them 35 years later, after
her death in 2000 and my sister's death in 2009 placed
them in my hands.

There is something uncanny about hearing the

voice of my mother again ten years after she fell silent
forever. It is her voice just as certainly as is the clear
flowing hand in which she wrote – she belonged to the
age of beautiful penmanship, which is now a lost art.
But though I can recognize the personality, the
document records a side of my parent that I was less
familiar with. The woman I remember was timid,
anxious, and prone to go into hysterics over anything
from a home repair to a simple pot boiling over on the
stove. But the author of the journal is someone on a
spiritual quest who writes simply and directly about
her desire to improve herself, to overcome her
weaknesses and limitations, and above all to grow
closer to her creator and her fellow travelers on the
earth. In doing so she expressed her highest self, the
person she aspired to be, and the one she came closest
to becoming in the very act of stating that desire.

The thoughts she set down may not always be

original or momentous, but they are simple and direct
expressions of the kind of personal search for meaning
in life that any thoughtful person should be able to
relate to. She demonstrated a level of mature wisdom
that gives evidence for “that of God in everyone” which
speaks to us, and through us, if we only listen.

What follows does not require an introduction, but

some background may help the interested reader to
appreciate more fully the circumstances in which it
was written.

Mom was born in Brooklyn, New York, and raised

there during the Great Depression. Her father was
German Lutheran, her mother Irish Catholic, and she
attended Catholic schools all the way through business
college. Her father always held good jobs through those
hard years – with the New York City police, then the
Pennsylvania Railroad, and finally with AT&T – so the
immediate family never suffered; but the specter of
poverty surrounding them dictated that young Evelyn
should learn a trade to be able to support herself if the
need ever arose. (Later on, it would.) Accordingly, she
studied typing, shorthand, and bookkeeping so she
could always find work in any office. I don't know why
she was also allowed to study music, which she loved,
except that maybe it was considered part of a good set
of social skills. But she had quite a talent for classical
piano – years later I remember her playing Chopin
nocturnes and waltzes remarkably well – and a lovely
soprano voice. That's how she met my dad.

While on leave from basic training during World

War II, an army buddy of my future father introduced
him to my future mom as a fellow music lover. They
must have hit it off, because when Dad shipped out for
Europe as a second lieutenant he painted “Evelyn” on
the hood of his Jeep. When he came home at the end of
the war they married. (The buddy who had introduced
them was not so lucky. He didn't made it back.)

Dad played the piano so well he was able to go to

Juilliard on the GI Bill. Then he transferred to
Columbia University because he wanted to study more
than just music. They had married for love and
romance, and photos from the time appear to show
that they started out happily as proud new parents and
the owners of a first home. But things somehow went
wrong after that.

With two young children once my sister had been

born, they moved to Miami, where my father's parents
and brother had relocated. From the beginning things
were always a struggle there. As good a pianist as he
may have been, Dad was not one of that top tenth of a
percent who could achieve a concert career. Nor did he
have the knack for popular music, or the patience to
teach. Instead he held only a series of menial, dead-end
jobs until eventually he found a career as a botanist at
Fairchild Tropical Garden. This profession was not a
lucrative one, however. They were able to buy a house
with a no-money-down VA mortgage, but as soon as my
sister was old enough to put into kindergarten Mom
had to go to work so they could make ends meet. She
found a secretarial position at the School Board office
downtown and took buses to work. Later she became
the secretary at a local elementary school, a position
she held in several different schools until she retired.

Long before that, however, the strained relationship

with my dad fell apart. When I was 12 they separated,
and a few years later divorced. Then in 1973, just two
years before the journal begins, Dad died suddenly
from pneumonia, which was complicated by the chest
wound he had received in the war. I know that Mom
always considered him the one love of her life, in spite
of everything, and it is pleasant to find him mentioned
only fondly in the pages of her journal.

Finally, just a few words about Mom's spiritual

journey. As I mentioned, she had grown up as a
staunch Catholic in parochial schools. My father was
also born into a Catholic family, but one that was not so
rigorous in its beliefs and practices. Dad's experiences
in the war, combined with his questioning disposition
and wide-ranging collegiate studies, led him to
abandon his faith. It's a measure of how strong this
conviction was that he eventually persuaded my mom
to follow his example. I'm not sure how heart-felt it
was on her side, but for whatever reasons she came to
disagree with strict dogma and to admire more earnest
forms of faith in practice. For example, both my
parents idolized Albert Schweitzer as much for his
musical achievements as for the missionary work he
supported with them.

When we kids were in elementary school our

parents seemed to feel that some form of religious
exposure was necessary, so we began attending the
Unitarian Church. It's hard to imagine a more complete
about face from Catholicism than this. But it was part
of a continuing theme – one thing they both liked was
that the organist, like Schweitzer, played a lot of Bach.
And the church school, as I can attest, was more like a
comparative religion class than an indoctrination.
From the beginning we were encouraged to listen to
what others believed, and to decide for ourselves what
to believe.

Dad eventually left the Unitarians, just as he left us.

And Mom wandered for a time until she was
introduced to the Christ Congregational Church. By
whom? Well, actually it was me and my friend Richard
Sevigny.

I was all grown up by this time, and my closest

friend and I used to have marathon philosophical
discussions comparing Eastern and Western mystical
traditions. Richard had grown up in his parents'
Congregational church, and he had such a close
relationship with the minister there that he actually
was considering going to divinity school to become a
minister himself. The minister's name was Theodore N.
Tiemeyer (yes, initials TNT, and Richard would tell you
with a grin that his sermons were dynamite!). I
attended services there a few times with Richard and
his wife, and found the church to be welcoming and
not stuffy as I found many Christian churches to be.
Rev. Tiemeyer was a tall, haggard character with a
great booming voice and wide arms. He also had an
interest in parapsychology and was a friend of Arthur
Ford, the well-known psychic. This interest was not
shared by all the members of the congregation, some of
whom thought their shepherd was leading them pretty
far from the path. But for Richard and me it made him
wild and interesting. Richard never did go to divinity
school, but for a time he became the leader of the
church youth group and enlisted me to help out.

Somewhere in there I must have told my mom

about the church, because she decided to give it a try.
Wonderfully and unexpectedly she found a true
spiritual home there, one in which she could be who
she was and become what she hoped to be, which is
surely all any of us can ask. Mom started reading the
books of Edgar Cayce, whom she mentions several
times, along with some other works that I commend to
your attention, besides studying the Bible and coming
to see it in a new light.

Along the way she took it on herself to do a spiritual

exercise involving keeping a journal for 28 days. The
routine apparently included the use of an Affirmation,
which explains itself in the text, combined with a
general topic to reflect on, a “grounding” exercise, and
often ending with a plea for God's help in her search.
The topic she chose, “Who Am I?” is a question to
which she never gave a better reply than in these few
pages. I'm glad and fortunate to have it, and to be able
to share it with others.

Steve Donachie
Miami, 2010
 About the text:

I have transcribed the original manuscript almost

exactly as it appears. One of the amazing things about
it is that there are hardly any crossed out or corrected
words in the whole text. Mom's thoughts formed
themselves into complete sentences and paragraphs,
almost as if it were just another piece of dictation she
had been taking. I've included an image of the first
page with the illustrations at the end so you can see it
for yourself.

I have kept her underlines as underlines rather

than changing them to italics, which is not the way we
write when we write by hand. I corrected a rare
misspelling just to show how rare they were. In the
case of “bonzai” trees, which was repeated, I indicated
the correction to “bonsai” the first time only. Surely we
can forgive her for that one, because when she was
studying spelling there were not many Japanese words
in the English lexicon! And after all, it's a translation.

I have added brief titles to each piece just as an aid

to finding a topic to refer back to later. I've also added
footnotes where I thought there was something I could
illuminate, but these are tucked away in italics at the
end of each day so they can be skipped if you prefer to
read just the original as it was set down in that month
of May, 1975.

This document was created with OpenOffice Writer.

The font is called Droid Serif.
The page size is set for digital reading devices.

© Copyright 2010 Steve Donachie

Contact: stevedonachie@gmail.com
You are free to copy and redistribute this document in whole or
in part by any means – thanks for sharing! Copies must include
this copyright notice and give attribution of the author and editor.
However you may not sell it or include it in a body of work that is
sold without express permission of the copyright holder.
 Who Am I?

Affirmation
May 2, 1975

I know I'm “a child of God.” But knowing something

intellectually isn't enough. I must put much thought
and work into application to fully comprehend this
wonderful truth.

I've decided to use “My soul doth magnify the Lord”

as my spiritual affirmation since I've just begun to
think of its meaning in a new light. Magnify means
bring into sharper focus and enlarge. The Magnificat
statement then can mean my soul should be able to
bring God into clearer understanding for me and
others I meet in my life. That divine inner spark is
capable of so much – if I can find the way to use it in
accordance with divine plan.

Oh God I have felt help in beginning my search. I

acknowledge I need much further help.
Grounding
May 3, 1975

I've tried the “Grounding” practice suggested in the

workshop. I seems very reasonable to me that it can be
helpful. I've been thinking of the way sunrises and
sunsets have impressed me when camping.* I've also
thought many mornings when I see the sunrise just
before going into school that it represents the beauty of
the universe and that I'm “storing up” the beauty and
serenity of the moment to help me through my day of
work. The “Grounding” seems similar to these other
impressions – only intensified. Also, with all of the
applications of solar energy now, it certainly seems
possible that people can absorb energy from the sun.

While I was serving today, I began to think of it as a

“working with hands” tool toward deeper
enlightenment. It seems working with hands at simple
tasks or on works of art share something in that
something is created. Perhaps all creative work draws
in varying degrees on the Creative Forces of the
universe that are of God. If so, more than satisfaction
and relaxing calmness are the benefits gained. I've
always enjoyed making things with my hands. But
today I began to think of this in a more important way.
I don't know whether this will have any lasting effect
on me, but I hope it will.

Went to Church* supper and enjoyed the fellowship

of the group. I have sometimes wondered if members
knew each other in previous lifetimes. So many ties
with friends and mutual acquaintances show up that it
reminds me of Cayce's comments that some of the
people attracted to work with him at Virginia Beach
had known him in previous lifetimes.* My feeling of
fellowship in the Church was something I feel I needed.
It's helping me develop friendliness. I've found much
happiness as a bonus along with the deeper blessings
of Church service.

* Mom was beginning to go on a series of camping

trips with my sister during the course of which she
scouted out other parts of the state where she might
choose to retire.
 I have followed her capitalizations of the word
“Church” because it may indicate a shift in her
perception during the course of the journal. Near the
beginning it is usually capitalized, while later it is not,
possibly reflecting an increase of her comfort and
familiarity with the church of her choosing, and less of a
need to address it as a proper noun.

The mention of previous lifetimes may seem out of

place in a Christian church since reincarnation is not
part of any church doctrine. It is prominent however in
the writings of Edgar Cayce, whose followers believe he
was “channeling” messages from departed spirits. It
might seem odd for someone like my mom to be dallying
with such ideas, but remember that the 70's followed hot
on the heels of the 60's, and such ideas were already
becoming widespread in the American counter-culture.
It also is a sign of Mom's open-mindedness and the fact
that, like me, she had also read and thought a lot about
Hinduism and Buddhism, which treat reincarnation as a
matter of fact.
A Deaconess
May 4, 1975

I am a Deaconess! At the Church election this

morning for new members to the various Boards, I was
elected to the Board of Deacons. I'm thrilled at the
realization of the many wonderful opportunities to be
of help and service to others [that] will be opened up to
me through being a member of this Board. I hope to try
to make the most of these opportunities. I'm glad this is
beginning at the same time I'm trying a deeper search
into my spiritual growth. I know that whatever I give of
myself will be returned to me in blessings from God.
The blessings I hope for are awareness and spiritual
growth. Mother Theresa* spoke of the joy that no one
could take away from her. I found the similar
reference to that joy in the Gospel of St. John today.
This is what I seek – on a much smaller scale, according
to what I can do in my life circumstances. I hope I'll
find the inner voice to guide me so my soul can
magnify the Lord.
 *There is something poignant about Mom's quoting
Mother Theresa about joy when that good woman later
confided about the loss of her own faith and the need to
go on without it. But the link is appropriate. I see my
own mother struggling with her faith, as do many of us.
Universal Energy
May 5, 1975

The idea of Universal Energy being in all life and

even in all inanimate things seems easier to imagine
while doing the little “grounding” practice. The
universe is one from the power of the sun down to the
earth and grass beneath our feet. I am a part of the
universe and have a function to fulfill. I pray for
understanding to know my purpose now so I may try to
fulfill that purpose. Behind all atoms are energy, and
the energy is of God. I share some of this energy with
all life and with God. We are of God originally and our
souls are working toward reuniting with God. As
children of God, the beauties of the world are our
inheritance. Help me to savor and appreciate the
beauties of the world and skies. The effect of trying to
“drink in” or experience the beauties of nature is so
calming to me. It makes me feel small in the total
picture, yet more important because of sensing the
divine thought and plan behind all creation. And I have
a place to fit in in that vast complex panorama. My part
is small, but there is something I can do to serve in
some way in this exact place and time of eternity. May
my inner guiding light not be obscured by my hurrying
about unimportant things. Help me find the quiet
temple of God within where I may learn how I may
fulfill my important tasks in life and draw closer to
God. Each blade of grass is tiny but, in unison with
other blades, each is a part of an emerald carpet.

I attended a Deacons' meeting this evening. Here is

a new door to opportunities to help serve the church
that is serving me so very wonderfully. It would be
marvelous if I could help a few other people find this
same happiness in this Church. Help me find the right
words to say at the right time to lead people in to visit
and find the joy inside.

This passage and the others in which Mom claims to

have found happiness are good to hear. I remember too
well how devastated she was by her divorce, how alone
and helpless she felt, and it is good to know she came out
the other side of that difficult time.
Human Nature
May 6, 1975

It rained this evening from about 5 to 7 so I missed

watching sunset for “grounding.” There was just a
short while of a few white and pink clouds reflecting
the setting sun. I watched their beauty fade and deep
blue clouds gradually pass over them. For a few
minutes it looked as though you could sense the
turning of the earth. It must have been moments such
as that that inspired music of the spheres. No wonder
Edgar Mitchell* was so awed by the sight of the earth
seen from outer space.

Lyla lent me a book about women of the Bible and

applications of their experiences to present day
women. I read the first chapter tonight – about
Abraham's second wife – and feel it is an interesting
book. Human nature doesn't change, as Reverend
Tiemeyer keeps reminding us from time to time. I
wonder whether this is more because the patterns of
behavior have only so many possibilities according to
some basic laws – or whether it's more because the
same souls are living and reliving and fall into similar
behavior patterns again and again or different patterns
that may also be basic for growth at that time.

I feel I have a need to be of service and thought this

might be a need because of [a] previous life of perhaps
indifference to others. Now I realize though that all
souls have the purpose in life of being of service to
others in helping to serve God and spread His kingdom
on earth by trying to make His light within us shine
forth as evidence of God's love to others.

I thought today at school that I may be perceiving a

little growth of calmness within me. But it may only
have been a calmer day of work today. I am aiming
though at putting religious insight into practice. I pray
for help in following through with good intentions.

*Astronaut Edgar Mitchell was the sixth person to

walk on the moon on the Apollo 14 mission. While on
the moon he conducted personal ESP experiments with
some friends back on earth. In 1973 he founded the
Institute of Noetic Sciences to “conduct and sponsor
research into areas that mainstream science has found
unproductive.” He also believed that at least some UFO's
were travelers from other planets. Apparently Mom had
read a moving account of his experience of seeing the
earth from a distance.
Discipline
May 7, 1975

I think Arthur Ford* said somewhere that one of the

most important things for us to learn is discipline. I
understood he meant learning to discipline ourselves
to use our time wisely, to set reasonable goals and
work systematically towards our goals, and, in general,
to set our lives in order.

I cringe when I think of the importance he placed

on this because I feel so disorganized. I've tried to get
my work organized more smoothly, but at home I find
it very difficult to make any headway in getting more
organized. I enjoy being at home, find pleasure in
living simply and unfrantically.* But I know my simple
life could be even more satisfying if I can make myself
clear out anything that's “clutter” and get home in
better order. It will be hot this summer but I'll try to
accomplish something positive towards this goal this
summer.

I think Arthur Ford said this discipline would

prepare us for life beyond.

*Arthur Ford was born in Titusville, Florida, in 1897

and died in 1971 after quite a career as a psychic or
clairvoyant. Whatever you may think of that, he also left
behind a body of spiritual teaching that many have
found helpful.

When Mom starts talking about her difficulty

cleaning the house and trying to live “unfrantically,” I
hear the woman I remember. She fought ineffectually
against the triumph of clutter throughout her life. But
she did make progress against the idea of “frantic.”
Later in her life I could detect a definite shift into a more
tranquil and easy going pace. Retiring from the public
school system and relocating to the small town of St.
Cloud in Central Florida helped a lot, too.
Children
May 8, 1975

I've often felt, and sometimes said, that the greatest

thing I've accomplished in life is to raise two children.
It's so true that so very much of a mother's best
thought, work, and creative activities center around
her children. In fact, it's so easy to feel it's a noble thing
to be so concerned and involved with children, that a
mother must be sure to remember the children's lives
are their own. They're entrusted to the mother's care
for a while, but they must be given freedom to grow
and develop alone.

I'm proud of Steve and Jan. Yet I'm probably

responsible for very little about them. I am only one of
many persons from whom they've inherited some
qualities. I am only one of many from whom they've
learned, and continue to learn. And I've learned from
Steve and Jan also. What a great pleasure and
satisfaction there is in finding that since they are of
another generation they hold some keys to my
understanding these times more clearly. This is like the
river Rev. Tiemeyer spoke of with the source unknown,
the heritage of the past passed along into the present
and flowing on into the future. He referred then to
religious truths, but it applies to all life. The old man in
Sidhartha* also spoke of the river.

It's such a shame that while we're in the present,

sort of “main act” of the drama with our children that
the every day burdens, tasks and petty problems
consume so much of our energy. While I still have time,
I want to concentrate on trying to make our hours have
bits at least that will fit into this good heritage type of
memories to pass on down the river.

*It's nice to know your parents are proud of you, but

how amazing is it to hear that they are letting you go,
that you are your own person, and even that they have
learned from you? One case in point: Herman Hesse's
novel, Sidhartha, is one that I recommended and may
have loaned to her. Another item to pass along down
that river.
Brotherhood
May 9, 1975

After many years of claiming to believe in the

brotherhood of man, I have finally during the past year
at church grown to feel a more real sense of
brotherhood with my fellow man through the deep
sense of fellowship in the church. It's been easier to
feel comradeship and interest and concern for the fine
friends I've made at church. The Bible discussion group
meetings have made us aware of the strength of good
vibrations generated by a group seeking understanding
of the meaning of the teachings of Jesus. We have been
stimulated to keep thinking long after the meetings and
during the days following. “Where 2 or 3 are gathered
in My Name, there I am also”* seems to be felt in this
group.

I have grown closer to the fine people I work with at

school also. I think this is increasing this past year
because of my church associations and happiness in
belonging to this church. I feel happier and hope I act
happier as evidence of what I have found.
 Where it is still most difficult to feel brotherhood is
with a few emotionally tangled up children at school
and with unreasonable, irate parents. These, of course,
are the ones most needing kind, sincere attention. I
keep trying but know it's not truly genuine. I think of
souls on varying levels and rationalize until I'm guilty
of a kind of condescending concern and pity for these
people – as though I'm somehow a little higher and
more blessed than they are. That isn't right – and for all
I know they may be on a much higher level of
development than I am. It's hard to find the way to act
that can be helpful and truly Christian. I haven't tried
the practice suggested in the Cayce workshop of
silently stating an affirmation before confronting such
people or situations that cause us difficulty. It is
supposed to help gradually in making us gentler
people. I must try to follow this suggestion. It may be
exactly the help I need to improve in this problem area.
I must aim at being aware of the spark of the Christ
consciousness in all those whom I find it so difficult to
like.
 *There's a wonderful connection with that Biblical
quote: “When two or three are gathered in my name ...”
When I began my own association with Quakers, I found
myself in a “worship sharing” where we were given
those words to contemplate. I struggled with it at first. I
wanted it to say, When even one is gathered in my name
… It took me several years to appreciate that the real
message in the words is the value of fellowship, which
was at the core of the teachings of Jesus. He wanted us
to remember that the fellowship was why he was here,
what it was all about, the message and the lesson we
had to learn. To have it appear again in my mom's
journal is a perfect closing of a circle.
Motherhood
May 10, 1975

I read today about a prodigy pianist-composer,

Michelle Levin Katz, who is now married and the
mother of 3 step-daughters and two children of her
own. She feels that being a mother is just as creative a
job as being a musician. That's how I feel also. It's true
that a mother shouldn't try to mold her children into
the kind of persons she'd like them to be in such things
as abilities in which to excel, characteristics such as
bold and aggressive, mild and passive, outgoing and
gregarious, introverted and scholarly, etc. – but she can
be near as the child's own talents and characteristic[s]
begin to manifest and provide whatever tools,
atmosphere, training, books, etc. will seem most
appropriate and beneficial to development.* That's
why a mother feels such pride in her children when
they are grown-up. Not that she made them what
they've become, but that she watched and tried to
nurture the unfolding personality and character.

I am a mother and have found this very rewarding.

There were many times when I felt very insecure about
my abilities to know how to act and what to do.
Perhaps it doesn't matter just what we do sometimes –
that only one thing is right to do and all others wrong –
but something deeper about interaction between souls.
The child can feel support and love, which are the real
things needed.

Creative forces are of God, so being a parent should

make one more aware of God and feel some
partnership in the miracle of new lives unfolding.

I'm so happy that the love Scott and I shared

brought us Steve and Janice. I must try not to lean* on
Steve, but I do enjoy talking with him and feel great joy
in finding I can now learn so much from him. I find
such great joy and contentment now with my
relationship with Janice. I think we've both matured
and gotten to understand each other better.

Each day of my life brings me joy. May I not miss

savoring and realizing those joys. Some are brief
moments and others long-lasting.

I long to grow more aware and selective in the way I

spend the hours of leisure each day so they will be
productive – not in frantic busy-ness, but in peaceful,
fulfilling living.

*There's a lot for me to take in here. It's certainly

true that both my parents left me free to evolve in my
own direction – so much so, perhaps, that I later came to
feel almost neglected. Yet when I look back I see the
many instances when Mom made available to me what I
needed. I was not forced to learn the piano, but other
instruments appeared when I developed the interest –
even, during the “hippie” era, a sitar from India. When
Mom worked at the central school board office she fed
my insatiable appetite with virtually every science
fiction book contained in the main library. If I needed a
slide rule for math class, or oil paints for art, or a
drafting table to study mechanical drawing, those things
materialized regardless of the scant amount of money
that was available for them. One summer I picked up
typing by working my way through one of her tutorials
from school on the old Underwood manual typewriter
that she sometimes used for after-hours work. When I
came of age and my father was not so available, a book
about “the facts of life” appeared, because she knew I
could learn whatever I wanted simply by reading about
it.

I smile to see her admonish herself not to “lean” on

me, because it's true that I chafed at having to be more
of a support to her after she had lost her husband. I
certainly resented any idea that I had to become the
“man” of the house. But though it was sometimes
uncomfortable, I know there are many things we shared
during that time that I might have missed otherwise, and
I must remind myself that I often found her a good
companion.
Mothers' Day
May 11, 1975

Today is Mothers' Day – or Festival of Christian

Family Life – and the sermon in church dealt in depth
with some of my thoughts last night. It was very good
and helped clarify my thoughts.

I'll have the chance to work next year with Material

Aid committee at church. This interests me a great deal
for I think I should be able to do some things in service
or knitting that can go to help someone in need. It's
been a long while since I've done anything to help so
directly. I want to make the most of this opportunity.

I must get our home in order. I've tried in places,

but everything seems to get in disorder again before I
get the next room in order. I thought that some boxes
might help me get storage organized. But it's daily
items that I have lots of trouble with. I won't give up.
Maybe if I try to act as though I'm well organized little
by little I'll become organized. Cayce spoke of changing
gradually. I mustn't be impatient.
Souls With Bodies
May 12, 1975

If Cayce's readings placed emphasis on our being

“souls with bodies” rather than “bodies with souls,” it
would seem reassuring to us to concentrate on the time
of eternity of our souls rather than on the limited
number of years of the lives of our bodies.

I've never had driving ambitions to excel in a career

or ambitions to acquire wealth, and I'm glad I haven't
been caught up frantically in that mad pace. There
have been times I've felt I'm never going to live up to as
much as I perhaps may have been capable of, however.
Whether this is laziness in not developing talents fully,
or whether this is heading in a good direction of not
being desirous of temporary goals – I'm not sure. It
seems to be something I can explain either way. Of
course I prefer the latter, but I may just be deluding
myself about that. Perhaps I'll never know for sure till
after the end of this lifetime. Lately I've wondered
whether reincarnation may give us a variety of
lifetimes with a variety of types of life situations to see
just what we make of different circumstances. Maybe,
just as in education, there is a kind of lateral, enriching
kind of growth, in addition to only onward and upward
for reward or stepping back down to atone or learn.

One day is all we live at a time, and trying to do the

best we can with each day is probably still the wisest
advice we can be given. It could be that souls develop
by tiny gradual changes – like the idea of healing
beginning with changes in a few atoms, and then
snowballing. Only the “snowballing” with souls must
be very, very gradual, too.
Middle Age
May 13, 1975

I'm a middle-aged woman – and I love it! Somehow I

feel more an individual “me” at this time of life than
ever before. I am no longer a child – shy and uncertain
of what lay ahead. I'm no longer a student, a young
wife, a young mother. As I look back now, I remember
all the happy experiences of each of these periods of
my life. Yet while living through them I also felt a great
deal of insecurity about my abilities to manage. I
sometimes felt overwhelmed by daily problems and
unsure of whether I was doing the right thing.

Now all the experiences have blended to give me a

background memory of wonderful times – and
accomplishments. It's true that I never accomplished
anything spectacular – but everything moved me
further along that river of life with streams leading
into ever-widening rivers with diversity of
characteristics. The bits and pieces of talents that I've
developed – playing the piano, enjoying listening to
music, sewing, crocheting, knitting, typing, shorthand,
bookkeeping, driving a car, rowing, cooking and
baking, developing love of reading good books – now
are beginning to seem like pieces in a big jigsaw puzzle
that's “me.” It's remarkable to realize how many of
such seemingly lowly skills have enabled me at various
times to be of some help to others as well as to myself.

If one of our main purposes here on earth is to help

others and if I had managed to learn these skills before
needed – then I did succeed in developing talents to be
of service to others. I was selected to work with
Material Aid at church because of serving and
handiwork interests, and I do want to be of help with
this during the coming year. So “little pastimes” and
simple abilities can be used for good.

Middle-age is also a time when it seems good to slow

down our pace of activities to some degree. I find
myself considering this the opportunity to develop
inner calm and a feeling of tranquility and well-being.
I'm trying at work to make my motions and walking
more poised and avoiding as much as possible the
frantic rushing. I think I'm getting just as much work
done, but I'm trying to become a calmer person. Serene
is the word I'd like to aim for. Somehow all this is a sign
of “acting my age” and becoming better for it. I think it
will do me good, and I hope I may also have a calming
effect on some of the tense children and adults I meet
at school. This seems to be in keeping with my
affirmation – “My soul doth magnify the Lord.”

It's odd for me to hear my mom reflecting on “middle

age” when she was younger than I am now. But I can
certainly agree with her sentiment that it is a time of
coming to know yourself and to be more comfortable
with yourself than during the earlier and often more
tentative stages of life.
Spiritual Growth
May 14, 1975

The middle-aged years seem just right for

concentrating on spiritual growth. The only thing that's
hard to understand about that is the sadness of young
lives that end in death before having the opportunity of
older years.* Perhaps those haven't the need for longer
years. I don't know. I'm just glad I've gotten to my
approaching 51st birthday.

I haven't made much progress yet with meditation,*

but I keep trying, and it's important to me. Maybe my
feeling of healthy wellbeing gets more help from my
meditation than I know.

The Cayce “Search for God” books should be very

stimulating in gaining better insight. I've read just a
little of Book I.

I realized today that I'm old enough to be the

mother of many, and possibly most, of the people I
work with at school. This can help explain why they
usually don't call me by my first name. I had thought it
was more because of a lack of friendliness on my part.
I'm glad to know it's probably just my age. I like the
staff at school very much and feel fortunate to work
with them.

Middle-age is also the time when I can understand

my father and mother better. I had felt afraid of
becoming my mother's companion 10 years ago; now I
would be able to fit into that position more
comfortably. It doesn't do any good to live with guilt
and regrets, so I try to believe I did the best I could at
that time. I'm more stable now in may ways.

Having been an “only child” seems to have caused

me to have problems getting along with people at
times. It's not that I was “used to having my way about
things” but just that I didn't have as many experiences
with brothers or sisters or many childhood friends. I
guess that's why I never feel lonely. I've been used to
being alone a good deal.

I'm not sure who was on Mom's mind when she refers
to people who die too young, but my father's death at the
age of 52 was only two years in the past, and not long
before that a young woman I knew had taken her own
life. Still earlier, one of my childhood schoolmates, now
college age, had died in a bizarre Halloween accident
when his car crashed into a runaway horse on a country
road just a few miles from home. The incidents are
abundant, and abundantly sad. Those of us who survive
are always aware of those who didn't make it, and must
learn from that whatever there is to learn.

Her mention of meditation may refer to a practice

related to this spiritual exercise she was engaged in, but
it may also be Transcendental Meditation, the technique
taught by Maharishi Mahesh Yogi. “TM” was something
I tried for a couple of years around this time, and which
my mom also took up on the strength of my positive
experience with it.
Fellowship
May 15, 1975

I'm a member of a wonderful Women's Fellowship

church group. I attended the Installation Banquet this
evening and again felt very strongly the genuine close
friendliness of the group. It's been wonderful this year
to have joined this group at church. My life has been
enriched by it.

The program included a slide presentation of Erma

Vance's visit to the cities of the Incas, modern and
ancient. The scenes were breathtaking. The cold
climate high up in the mountains and the clouds
hanging around the peaks reminded me of oriental
mountains with shrines and temples that I read about
last year. It seems the grandeur of those mountain
settings and effects of clouds and sunrise and sunset
stimulate spiritual growth.

The accomplishments of those ancient Incas [were]

truly amazing. I've always been fascinated with
information and pictures of Incas and Mayans. Scott*
was, too. He enjoyed his trip to Guatemala & climbing a
Mayan temple. I think that might have inspired one of
his finest poems.* How tragic that those people were
conquered by greedy seekers of gold and wealth.

It seems as though this doesn't say much tonight

about my thoughts about who I am. But perhaps my
awe at those mountain scenes taps some memory deep
within my soul-consciousness. Florida is so flat, and we
always enjoy getting up into the central part of the
state with hills and lakes. Rev. Tiemeyer spoke one
Sunday of frequent Biblical references to hills. We
seem to find renewal and strength from such views.
Perhaps the majesty seems symbolic of God. Scenes like
those make it impossible not to experience nature
itself. The beauty, awe, wide-spreading panorama all
speak of a Creator of great varieties of beauty, peace,
stillness, and sounds of birds, waters, wind, rain, etc,
etc. Some of the scenes tonight were high above the
timber line. The reed huts and boats – boats like Thor
Heyerdahl built to test his theory of travel from Egypt
to South America. And they think an Inca city existed
1,000 years before Babylon! Oh the marvelous
mysteries and excitement of our world's history and
its people.

I am an inhabitant of a sub-tropical peninsula state

of the United States on this wonderful planet Earth.

*My father, who disliked “Charles” and could not

abide “Charlie” or – worse still – “Chuck,” started going
by the nickname of “Scott” when he was in the army. It
came from his Scottish ancestry and maybe the fact that
his dog back home was a Scottish terrier. Anyway, it
stuck, and he even got his family and in-laws to adopt its
usage after he came home. Most people who met him
later in life didn't know him as anything but Scott.

I'm not sure which of Dad's poems she is referring to

that may have been inspired by Mayan ruins. Several of
the ones we collected after his death take a long view of
history, and the age of those ancient constructions
would certainly have resonated with him. And in
another poem he wrote about the magnificent skies that
we have in Florida that must take the place of majestic
mountains.
 Neither of my parents traveled much, but my dad did
make that one voyage to Guatemala that he really
enjoyed. I still have a wooden reed instrument that he
brought me as a souvenir. Mom took a number of
camping trips around Florida with my sister, but –
except for a cruise to Nassau with our grandmother –
never left the state after the family moved here. She
never flew in a plane her entire life.
Citizen of the World
May 16, 1975

I am an American and a citizen of the world. It's

strange how people think it's fine and good to feel
patriotic about one's own country but find the aim
toward “one world” loyalty either just visionary
dreaming or a disloyalty to one's own country. I
thought of this as I typed mimeo* stencils for our
school Bicentennial* newspaper.

I guess it gets back to ideas about inclusion of

persons with similar likes, heritages, religions, etc. and
exclusion of all other people as somehow lesser
persons. It's still hard for us to support totally and
sincerely the brotherhood of all mankind.

I was reading something about Pentecost tonight in

the Acts of the Apostles. It seemed to stress finding
unity for people of diverse backgrounds through the
Holy Spirit. Evidently we still don't open ourselves
completely to the Holy Spirit to become filled with this
wisdom and enlightenment.
 Oh God I have so many opportunities to practice
brotherhood with many different children and grown-
ups daily at school. Too often I feel I want to think of
everyone as a child of God, but know I fall far short of
my intentions. I've thought of trying the technique of
thinking of an affirmation before dealing with anyone
– but I keep on acting heedlessly without remembering
an affirmation. I must keep trying.

* For those too young to remember the days before

ubiquitous copy machines and laser printers, you should
know that schools and small businesses with a need for
short runs of printed material had two options. There
was a “ditto” machine and a “mimeograph.” Both used
stencils that had to be created on a typewriter. The ditto
stencil had a blue dye on the back that was dissolved
onto special, slick copy paper with the aid of a fragrant
and noxious solvent that is probably now prohibited by
law. The mimeo stencil had letters cut out by the
typewriter; it was then wrapped around a cylinder that
pressed ink through the cutouts onto the copy paper.
Neither one was good for more than a few hundred
copies before it was worn out and had to be discarded. If
you wanted more, you typed another one. Typing them
and running the machines were both jobs that my mom
performed at the school. She also cut the stencils for our
home-published, mimeographed edition of my father's
collected poetry, called Ruins, Eagles' Feathers. The
printed pages have survived for 35 years so far with very
little degradation, showing how superior that process
was to the ditto, which faded pretty rapidly with age.

1975 was one year before the bicentennial of the

Declaration of Independence, an event that was greeted
with much hoopla throughout the land, apparently
including my mom's school. It was somewhat tempered,
however, by the recent ignominious end of the Vietnam
war, which had cast a pall over patriotism for large
segments of the population, and the resignation of
Richard Nixon after the Watergate scandal.

Regarding the larger theme of being a citizen of the

world, I recognize here a familiar teaching of both my
parents. They thought the League of Nations had been a
great idea, idolized Dag Hammarskjold, the Secretary-
General of the United Nations, voted for Adlai Stevenson
as a voice of reason in the anticommunist hysteria of the
1950's, admired the Unitarian hymn that begins, “We
would be one in hatred of all wrong/ One in our love of
all things good and fair,” believed that the world had to
be united to avoid nuclear holocaust. This was the air I
breathed as I grew up.
Posterity and Creativity
May 17, 1975

I'm a mother and I am proud of my children and

their accomplishments. This makes me like millions of
other mothers throughout the world today and millions
down through all the ages past. A bit of our pride is the
feeling of one kind of immortality in passing on a bit of
ourselves to posterity through our children.

Janice did a thoroughly organized job of stage

managing of the dance concert at the college tonight.
It's taken lots of work in rehearsal time and planning
time, and time to tape the music, and time working on
her part and costume for the finale. It went very
smoothly and I was happy for her success with the
work.*

Creative work gives us satisfaction because we use

God-given gifts or talents and add a bit of our own
unique personality. But the personality is from God
also, so perhaps that's why it makes us feel in tune with
God.
 * My sister, Janice – who preferred to be called Jan –
was someone who struggled in life. Afflicted with a
genetic disorder that caused scoliosis, or curvature of
the spine, she was a misfit who never really found her
place in the world. A rare exception was her brief
affiliation with the dance department at Miami-Dade
College. Mom is celebrating her achievement as stage
manager – more than the role of stage hand that I
remembered – and her inclusion in the performance. In
the middle of one number Jan came on stage dressed as
a janitor with a mop and pail and got comically tangled
up with the dancers. I didn't see the performance, but I
understand it was a hit with the audience.
Birthday
May 18, 1975

I am now 51 years old. And I think it's a marvelous

age to be. I am fortunate to have good health so I feel
increased drive now to seek and develop the important
values in my life.

I had a wonderful birthday today. It was Pentecost

Sunday. Jan and I heard a wonderful sermon in
church, cautioning against narrow, limiting dogmas,
and urging each person to seek his own personal
religion. It clarified my thinking along these lines and
was doubly great to hear on my birthday.

Steve came at noon for dinner. He brought me a

beautiful bonzai [bonsai] tree. Jan gave me Nixon
Smiley's* book “Yesterday's Florida” and Marjorie
Douglas'* “Everglades, River of Grass.” These make a
great combination of a miniature, perfect example of
the uplifting, calming effect of nature – together with
large-scale studies of this interesting state of Florida. It
was a very happy day.
 *Nixon Smiley was the long time horticulture expert
at the Miami Herald, as well as historian and author of
several books. He also had an office for some time at
Fairchild Tropical Garden, where my dad worked as a
botanist (the career he finally found). For a while they
worked together, and Dad assisted Smiley with research
for a book on native Florida plants, so there is a
personal family connection with this gift.

Marjorie Stoneman Douglas also has a connection

with Fairchild. Besides being a champion of the local
flora and fauna she was one of the founding members of
what we always called simply “The Garden.” There is
now a life-sized bronze statue of her seated on a bench
there; you can sit beside her and have your picture taken
with the Mother of the Everglades.
Happiness
May 19, 1975

I am a happy woman. It's a good feeling to

acknowledge this. Too often we think of happiness as a
period of time when everything is going especially well
or some very special events have occurred. Too often
we fail to realize we can be fortunately blessed with an
over-all quiet kind of happiness that exists throughout
our lives. I just realized that even the sad times are sad
because they're considered in comparison with warm,
bright, happy times. When we are overwhelmed by
grief at the death of a loved one, it's really
proportionate to the joy and happiness we knew with
that person. We could spare ourselves the pain of
mourning at the price of refusing to become
emotionally involved and concerned about other
people. Their deaths then would cause us no pain of
separation. But surely then our lives would be sterile,
empty – and sad! It seems to be one of the paradoxes of
life.

God, please help me to keep aware that I am a

happy woman. Maybe then I can grow closer to my
goal of becoming a calmer, more serene person. Then I
could truly give testimony in my life that “my soul doth
magnify the Lord.” It could also help me show that my
religion has brought great peace into my life, and
hopefully encourage at least one person to draw nearer
to God.

Here's that allusion to happiness again, which I find

so reassuring, as tentative as it may have been. She is
certainly recalling my dad here as she expresses the
time-honored sentiment that it is better to have loved
and lost than never to have loved at all.
Body, Mind, Spirit
May 20, 1975

I was thinking last night that in life our body

develops first, then our mind, and finally our spirit. Or
at least that's the way it seems to be planned for us
with schools and colleges to develop our minds as soon
as our bodies have developed sufficiently for us to
function fairly independently. Then somewhere about
the same time as the schools begin to be dominant
forces in our lives, the churches begin our spiritual
development. As a child I felt less pressure from the
religious training than the mind training knowledge in
school. It was emphasized though that the spiritual
concerns were really the most important.

Learning to earn a living and then doing the earning

and providing for family needs do take so much of our
time though for so many years. Rev. Tiemeyer said
Jesus also worked to support his family after St.
Joseph's death. Then he spent just 3 years in his actual
public ministry. So it seems he may have set an
example for us in this way also. The length of time isn't
as important as the quality of what we do in our
spiritual growth.

When I looked through the book about Japanese

bonsai trees, I marveled at the fact that this type of
miniaturized tree horticulture was ever conceived. It
seems to have hidden significance in finding beauty in
small trees reminiscent of majestic landscapes. Anyone
with a tiny yard or home has room for the beauty of a
bonsai tree or trees. We don't have to own a vast estate
or forest to appreciate the stature of noble nature. Of
course it's also possible to have any kind of plant grow
in a pot. But that's different than slowing the growth of
an old tree to keep it in a small container and even to
controlling the shape of its uppermost branches. The
bonsai tree takes so much more time and care than a
regular tree growing naturally in the soil. Perhaps
that's part of the meaning behind it also. In daily
watering and caring for the bonsai the owner confronts
the beauty of the tree daily. Sometimes we ignore our
regular trees for weeks at a time or casually appreciate
their shade. Turning our attention daily toward a small
miniature of a serenely beautiful natural landscape
must have a calming effect. It would be a way to
experience nature daily and perhaps grow a bit as
persons because of the contact.

Oh God help me to notice and appreciate all the tiny

examples of beauty that I encounter each day instead
of yearning to see great marvels in extensive travels.
What is near me is a part of the same world. There are
many who long for a trip to Miami!

Having recently participated in a Bible-study series at

the Miami Friends Meeting (definitely a first for me), I'm
interested to hear how my mom's impression of Jesus
seems to parallel my own. We tend to view him as a
man, as someone we might have known – someone who
was doing his best to teach us all something and to set
an example with his life, but not someone who was
inherently any more divine than the rest of us. Wasn't he
trying to let us know that we are all children of God, as
in my mom's opening words of this journal? I suspect he
might be dismayed to see people worshiping him while
missing the essential point of his teaching.
Purpose
May 21, 1975

I have some purpose to accomplish in my life. I

don't ever expect to succeed in doing anything very
great or important. Yet my life touches other lives
daily, and my actions sometimes can cause widening
circles of effects like pebbles thrown into a stream.
Therefore without even much thought of “doing
something,” I do in fact do things daily that may cause
good or bad effects. I am the one who controls my
words and actions, so I must seek to have my thoughts
under control in order to show kindness and positive
deeds and not impatient, mean or negative deeds.

Cayce said what we build in thoughts we meet in

life. I guess that's where it's important to begin
improvements. It's so easy to be tense and preoccupied
with troublesome thoughts – and then carelessly say
something that can hurt someone's feelings or act
impatiently with someone and make someone unhappy
and sad. If we can sort of activate our little “mind alert”
signal to think clearly and rightly before we speak or
act, we can surely make our circles of contacts sources
of encouragement, joy and happiness. This would seem
to fulfill our purpose to make the world around us a
little better or happier for our having lived.

I'm trying to act more deliberately and carefully to

try to improve. I was afraid today that possibly I'm just
slowing down in work. It will take some practice to
develop how to do what I'm seeking to do. It's a step
toward becoming a more gentle person, which is a
goal.

The things I can accomplish are little things, but

many, many little things could really amount to
something worthwhile. I must keep trying to do my
best each day.

When I was in Junior High – as we called Middle

School back then – Mom and I used to watch a weekly
series on Public TV called “The Way of Zen” in which the
philosopher Alan Watts instructed us about Oriental
religious teachings. One thing that always stuck with
me, and perhaps with my mom, was the Taoist idea of
“wu wei wu,” or “do without doing.” I hear echoes of this
in her musings about how our actions have effects,
whether we “do” them or not. It's also related to the
Existentialist premise that we are what we do.
Membership
May 23, 1975

I am a member of Christ Congregational Church.

Nothing has done more to help me find myself and
clarify my religious thoughts than joining this Church.
This has probably been the happiest year of my life. I
remember saying brief pleas of prayers to ask God to
help me find the way closer to understanding. Then I
visited the church – and did find the way. I find this
happiness continues to grow. I look forward to each
Sunday's service and receive added insight in each
service. The Bible Study meetings each month have
also been stimulating and made me see the Bible in a
fresh light. The meeting tonight was very enlightening.
The fellowship of this group has reality, also. I look
forward to sharing these study hours with these
Church friends.

As I wrote in the introduction, I'm pleased that my

mom found such a spiritual home in the church that I
introduced her to, however inadvertent it may have
been. And I'm pleased to have found such a home myself
among Quaker friends after spending most of my life
following my own nose when it came to spiritual beliefs
and practices. I can now agree from my own experience
that it is good to have a fellowship in which to continue
the search and the growth that we should hope will
continue throughout our lives.
Cars and Fear
May 24, 1975

I was uneasy today about the car, and realized how

very frightened I can become of mechanical things.
One day the car did stop dead on the highway, and I
experienced that feeling of helplessness. Ever since I
seem to be more aware than ever before of the actual
possibility of being stranded in some remote area
because of the failure of some small piece inside a
complicated automobile. We've always been fortunate
on vacation trips, but now I seem to be growing afraid
to go on a trip. This is probably increased by the fact
that I really am not totally confident in my Mazda car
yet. Mechanics who are familiar with it, and service
centers with parts, are not so numerous. It seems more
of a real problem than when I had Ford cars. I'm also
afraid it won't have enough power for turnpike
driving. Perhaps a lot of my upset is the fear that I may
not have made such a wise choice of car after all. My
fear is compounded because of driving alone or with
Jan and not having a husband to depend on to know
what to do about car troubles. I would be terrified of
even a flat tire.

All of this seems trivial except that I know I felt

slightly ill because of this today. This is really foolish. I
feel worried about a mechanical problem arising that I
wouldn't know how to deal with. It seems a strange
problem of this day and age. Yet when I think a little
further I realize there have always been threats of
troubles from things or forces beyond their control
hanging like clouds over lives of peoples of all times. In
fact it seems that striving to calm fears about things
that could happen – but might not happen – and facing
actual problems as they do arise with as much courage,
resourcefulness, and action needed at the time can add
to what we usually call “character.”

I found myself praying today that the car would get

me home safely. I don't think this is a good thing to
pray about. The only part that has any merit is the
childish admission of our weaknesses and fears.

Times like today remind me of my very limited

capabilities and convince me I wouldn't be very
capable of running a place in a remote farming country
area. Farmers are used to knowing how to tinker with
all kinds of machinery and household repairs. Perhaps
I need these days of feelings of insecurity to counter-
balance days of inflated ego when I feel capable of
managing a good deal. I think there's a saying that
humility is the beginning of wisdom.

Help me, Lord, to be well aware of my weaknesses

and limitations so I won't attempt more than I can
handle.

Not everything I recommended to my mom was a

success. Her purchase of a used Mazda happened largely
because I had owned a Volkswagen and then a Saab, so
she thought she might give a foreign car a try. At the
time, Mazdas were even more scarce than Saabs, so her
fears of being stranded somewhere with no service
available were well-founded. On top of that, she had only
learned to drive fairly late in her life, after my father
moved out, so it was something she was never really
comfortable with even when the car was working
properly.

It's interesting to see how she was able to find the

moral lesson in her fear, and to come to grips with it.
When I think of her I remember the fear, but I need to be
reminded of the courage that it takes to meet the fear.
How Big Is Your God?
May 25, 1975

This morning I remembered that I had written

yesterday that I didn't think it was good to pray that my
car would keep running. Then I remembered what Rev.
Tiemeyer says he answers when asked if it's all right to
pray about some certain thing. “It depends on how big
your God is.” My concept of God is big and my faith is
growing. So surely God could keep me from being
helplessly stranded in a car somewhere. Yet I don't
expect I should get special protection. Struggling and
coping with various problems seems to be part of life.
What I do want to learn though is to stop wasting
energy on fear. I want to learn to walk confidently in
the conviction that I do receive many blessings from
God, and my energy should be directed toward positive
thoughts and deeds rather than negative or fearful
thoughts and actions – or inaction because of being
frozen in fear.

It was a wonderful day today. Jan drove me to

church again, and I truly felt the joyful happiness of
having a grown-up daughter who's now an adult and
able to be of help and support to me. It's nice to have
her with me. Peggy and Bob Ozman also came to
church this morning, and I felt so happy to think I had
been able to tell them of this church. I do hope they'll
find the peace and joy I've found in this wonderful
church.

Jan and I watched the lunar eclipse last night. It was

really awesome to see it through the binoculars. What
a vast miraculous universe this is.

It's wonderful to have this glimpse of my mother and

sister gazing at the moon and stars, standing amazed on
the shore of the vast space in which we swim.

I also see the beginning of the shift in their

relationship. Late in my mom's life their roles reversed,
with Jan becoming the caretaker.
Housekeeping
May 26, 1975

I spent a lazy holiday today, but I feel relaxed and

rested because I didn't rush. I hoped to accomplish
some house cleaning and organizing but didn't. A
holiday should be restful and pleasant though – so I let
myself off from work at home again. The truth is
probably that I know I'm really not talented in
homemaking skills and good housekeeping. I think that
perhaps I'll manage better if I stop aiming toward
improving drastically in this area and see what
develops.

In looking over the above I wonder if this is

something I can work with by saying an affirmation
before each of the times I look at the house with
frustration that it all seems overwhelming. I had only
thought of that in connection with people situations.
Maybe it would help me in this way.

I'm glad I felt worried about my car the last 2

weekends. It gave me the chance to need Jan to take me
to church, and it made me feel good to receive her help.
It seemed to make her feel good to be of help, too. Most
of all I'm glad she came to church with me. I hope she'll
find all the happiness, strength and meaning there that
I have found.

Jan's affiliation with the church was never as deep as

Mom's. When they moved to St. Cloud, there was no
Congregational Church available. Mom settled on a
Presbyterian one as the place where she felt most at
home. Though she found companionship there, it was
never as deep an experience as what she recounts in the
journal. Jan didn't take to it at all, and began her move
into an increasingly isolated life.
Shyness
May 27, 1975

I read some of Cayce's group study work “A Search

for God” tonight and felt how insignificant my daily
journal comments have been. Perhaps it would have
been better to wait till I had advanced further in study
before attempting a journal on who I am. Yet I feel it
has still been time well spent – even if not fulfilling the
intent very fully.

The other day, for instance, I was thinking about the

idea of our being Body, Mind and Spirit and how
growth develops in that order. The infant's
development is mainly physical, our development in
youth is physical and mental during all school years.
Then finally our bodies reach maturity, we become
fairly satisfied with our mental progress – and then we
turn to the most important, the spiritual growth. It
seems the first two are needed to form a human being
who can function to carry out the purposes of the
spiritual self. This is a bit similar to something I read
tonight in “A Search for God.”
 Also, in reading listings of expressions of Creative
Forces, negative and positive, the word “shyness”
caught my eye. This was such a definite characteristic
of my childhood, that I hope it's a sign that I've made
some progress since in the course of the years the
shyness has faded away. I also noticed “insecurity” and
“fear” in the negative lists though, and I'm still dealing
with those.

I enjoy middle age because I'm more comfortable

with myself in dealing with other people than when I
was a shy, self-conscious child and young lady.

I'm glad that Mom felt she made progress against

shyness, which was something of a family trait. But she
remained a person who compulsively followed all the
rules, no matter how irrelevant they may have been.
Once I went to the Post Office with her in St. Cloud.
Though we were the only ones in line, and only a few feet
from the clerk at the window, Mom insisted on walking
all the way around the ropes that marked where people
were supposed to wait, down to the far end of the room
and back. The clerk smiled at me and said fondly, “She's
a funny lady.”
Hand Work
May 28, 1975

I've always enjoyed making things with my hands –

sewing, knitting, crocheting – and have always felt
satisfaction is seeing finished products. It seems now
that this has greater value than I realized. Jesus worked
as a carpenter, and St. Paul was a tent maker in his
trade. In Taylor Caldwell's book about St. Paul [Luke]*
she explained the Jews stressed intellectual studies, but
they also felt they should learn a trade as well. This
was to be of practical service to their countrymen. But
it may also have been for all the intangible and
therapeutic benefits of working with our hands.
Engrossed in painstaking work with some craft, we
focus our attention on some creative endeavor.
Perhaps this brings us closer to being able to
appreciate the beauty and greatness of all tiny and
magnificent marvels of God's creation. A musician
appreciates music more keenly, an artist appreciates
works of art to the fullest, a writer appreciates
masterpieces of literature to the utmost details. So in
trying any creative work we must be trying to invest
and increase our God-given talents. Part of the reward
seems to be the greater appreciation of the universe
and the perfection found in God's creation.

I've had so many wonderful advantages and

opportunities in my life. I'm afraid I haven't always
appreciated them enough or made the most of them. I'd
like to resolve now to do the best I can in the rest of my
life not to miss the opportunities or fail to appreciate
the blessings.

Taylor Caldwell's novel about St. Luke, which Mom

mentions again the next day, is called Dear and Glorious
Physician and looks like an interesting piece of
historical fiction. I've taken the recommendation and am
ordering a copy for myself. Thanks, Mom!
Trinity, Unity, Trinity
May 29, 1975

Today is the last day of this 28-day journal. I'd like

to end with some clearer insight into understanding
who I am, why I'm here and what my life should
accomplish. At this moment though I don't feel I
understand anything very specific – or at least nothing
more than I think I had felt all along for a number of
years.

Once coincidence did occur today, however. I

received an application made out to my name for
membership in AAA automobile club.* This seems like
a timely suggestion of a way to feel more confident
about driving or taking trips. I do intend to join. I've
often thought it sounded like good security protection
of road service, but I don't ever remember receiving an
application like this one. It does seem to fill one of my
needs. And answer to prayer?

We're getting near the end of the school year. I'm

trying to act with calmness and am succeeding
sometimes.

I brought home some empty boxes to try to organize

some clutter at home. I'm not going to give up on this
aim – no matter how dim my hopes of success seem to
be.

Mary Tirb will give me some material for infant

gowns to be sewn for a mission in Puerto Rico, so I'll
soon be starting with some Material Aid work for
church.

Sunday I'll be installed as a member of the Board of

Deacons. I hope to find many ways to be of service to
others through work on this Board. Sarah has surely
done so much to help me feel welcome and become
acquainted at Church. Her example on the Board is a
wonderful one to follow. However I don't have as much
time as she has devoted to this work. I want to do the
best I can though.

The sermon Sunday is The Unitarian-Trinitarian

Hassle. This is because it's Trinity Sunday. But this has
special personal meaning to me because I feel I have
trod the road all the way from a dogmatic and
Trinitarian Catholic faith, through a shift to a free
Unitarian faith, which led me to more intensive
religious searching – and finally to the Trinitarian
Congregational Church where I feel I've found my true
church home.

Over the past year or so I kept remembering Francis

Thompson's “Hound of Heaven”* – about my heart was
made for Thee, oh Lord, and I cannot rest until I rest in
Thee – and Taylor Caldwell's book about St. Luke made
me think more about Mary's Magnificat – My soul doth
magnify the Lord.

Now that I feel I've reached the goal of my

searching, I mustn't sit back and feel I've come to the
end of my studying for deeper understanding and
knowledge of God. I've just reached a firm foundation
on which to build.

I hope an A.R.E. Study Group* will be started at

Church, for I think this would help me very much. I've
gained so much help from the Bible Study group this
year. I hope this will continue next year.

It seems I'm filled with many good resolves. I know,

too, that whatever knowledge I gain must be put into
practice in my life or it would just be an academic
accomplishment without any spiritual value.

Perhaps in another few years, when I may have

made a little progress, I'll try to write another journal.
May God keep answering my pleas for help all along
the way.

*It's wonderful to think of a prayer being answered in

the form of an AAA membership. Unlike the drowning
man in the joke who refused help when it was offered,
Mom did join and kept up her membership for the rest of
her life. Her next (and last) car was a Ford Tempo.

I have been unable to find out what A.R.E. stands for,

though the context indicates it has something to do with
religious study. American Religious Education perhaps?

Francis Thompson's poem, “The Hound of Heaven,”

can be read online if you're interested. The language is
florid and bombastic by contemporary standards, but it
seems to have been considered a powerful statement of
faith in its day (the 1890's). Essentially it tells the same
story as the children's book called The Runaway Bunny
(1942), which is ostensibly about how a mother will
change her form to whatever is necessary to continue to
support her wayward child who is seeking to become
lost in the wider world. But it is easy to read between the
lines to the larger spiritual allegory in which God
becomes however large is required to encompass our
wayward souls on their journey.

This is certainly a fitting place for us to end, and for

me to say farewell again to the mother who will always
be with me.
Illustrations

The first page of the journal, demonstrating

Mom's elegant and highly readable penmanship.
 The mimeographed title poem from Dad's collection for which
Mom typed all the stencils. We produced only a hundred or so
copies. I added a cover design and had it printed on an offset
press, then bound them with staples along the spine. Mom
registered the book with the Library of Congress, making it an
official publication. This joint effort was a fitting memorial to my
father, and one that helped us both in dealing with his death.
Mom and me in St. Cloud, soon after her
retirement, probably about eight years after the
journal was written.

Mom with Jan, Christmas in St. Cloud

Evelyn Marie Donachie (1924-2000)
School portrait circa 1962