Little Match Girl

Like many I knew I wanted to go on pilgrimage. I knew I just had to go. I don’t know what I expected, or what I hoped for. But I got more than I could ever have dared dream of. I wanted to join in with others. I have always wanted to join in with others. My being mystic has put me on the outside, always looking in like the little match girl who gazed into ‘ windows at Christmas time seeing families and trees ablaze with colour, and wishing she could belong. For me Christ is alive and real-I saw him every night from when I was three to when I was seven, then again when I was twelve and finally aged thirty. He taught me, He revealed truth to me and I promised to serve him. But this was not what the church wanted to hear. For them revelation ceased and was complete in days long ago. I therefore must be mistaken at best, deluded at worst, as I persisted and finally a threat to their own organised truth. They used to burn us in the past; I suppose I should be grateful they merely ignore us now. So, pushed to the fringes I became used to the solitude of experience and service, and gradually as I reached my mid thirties onwards I found others also pushed to the outer regions, monks, hermits and at last I found people like me. I found them in writings too, people who spoke the same language, people such as Theresa of Avila, Julian of Norwich, Eileen Caddy, John O Donohue…

Amongst us walk some people whose light blazes forth steadfastly as the beacon ever guiding us to the safety of our true home. I have the joy of living and being married to one of them. I have several as friends. I have known many throughout my years here on Earth so far. I know of others whom I have never met. My Gracious Lord has ensured that I have never walked totally alone and for that I am grateful.

 I had the simple joy of meeting another recently when time and space collided, paths crossed and lives which were destined to meet were brought together in and through Grace.  Miracles are unified action coming together on all levels and these encounters are miracles, they are transformative miracles that through a tiny crack of interruption in the cosmic fabric, realign us and gently lift us forwards along our journey where we had stumbled for a short while, hampered in our progress by things unfamiliar, unsure of where next and how. I think in my case I had been sitting donkey like on the verge for a while; unwilling to move until I had clear direction. I have already learnt not to wander off on my own accord that inevitably gets me into trouble! So my policy for many years when these times happen has been sit still and wait. For many months I had been asking God for things I would be hard pressed to define, for they were misty, nebulous, random; inexplicable in earthly terms. I knew my requests of definition and clarification were being taken seriously, I knew that they would be answered but having already got well past the state of wondering how and when years before, I was just waiting patiently, humming, like Winnie the Pooh to pass time.

 True priests are people filled to over brimming with the very essence of God; who have the ability to listen with their Soul, sort the wheat from the chaff and breathe the light of Spirit onto the matter. They identify through Holy Spirit the issues that lurk in the hidden depths that cannot be identified clearly even by ones self sometimes-or perhaps especially by ones self! They may be religious or secular, but these true priests are all appointed by God.

 Sitting across a room from me, newly arrived on pilgrimage, I recognized another of Gods servants but the room was crowded and he was engaged with others and so was I; but I knew we would meet again. If across such a vast universe God brings two servants together for His purpose with such precision, then why do we humans worry about time or place? We parted company that evening with a simple passing acknowledgement that we would speak at some point, and a smile of Soul recognition.

 The following day we met by chance [synchronicity],actually we kept bumping into each other all weekend despite completely different schedules! We talked and as he travelled through my life, he described it in different terms to those I in my battered experiences did. My reduced yet pregnant descriptions of wilderness, isolation, loss, rejection and crucifixion, in the mystical tradition which had been my reality since I was three, seemed to glow in slightly more acceptable colours when the light of Christ’s infinite and tender Love was shone upon them. Terms such as Sacrificial and Interruption flowed; delivered with the energies behind them from him; terms I had never considered yet made perfect sense. I had the knowledge to know of these things yet had never connected them with me.

  Hands that are held high in priestly blessing of the body and blood also lifted my spiritual being to stand tall again and accept my place within the greater body of the Church that I had for so long felt excluded from. Deep ancient tearless tears flowed freely as the core of inner pain from years of antagonism from some religious was given up and laid to rest in this acceptance, this true altar of Love, the altar of our Lord-the true body of Christ; that which the Church was always meant to be.

 I was invited with heartfelt love from solitude and feelings of exclusion into communion and inclusion, from hidden into full view, and invited to walk away from the original lack of courage displayed by Peter into the full glare of discipleship; in trust and with full courage to fully accept the role and meaning of my own vocation, gifted to me by none other than the Lord himself. My human pain washed away, enabling the voice of Holy Spirit, as the dove flying high, to shine through joyously, thankfully and strongly once again-never now to be silenced; the willingness to undertake this task that no other here can do, for each of us has a specific role to play which no-one else can fulfill. It is only by playing our own very unique part that the whole can be healed and we may all stand at the throne of God and know that we have not been found wanting. For none of us may rest with God until all of us are safely home-that is the meaning of the parable of the Prodigal Son. The shepherd will not rest whilst a single one of his sheep is lost. We cross that finishing line together as one. Heaven is not a first past the finishing post deal. It’s a one for all and all for one deal.

  I had received the greatest gift of all from this true priest of God who has the courage to mirror Christ’s response of Loving Acceptance of us all. For Christ’s message was not just for one group of people; it was for all, it was inclusive. His sacrifice was for us all, not just a few. His sacrificial love for us all paved the way, which He enabled, for us to return home to His Father. He poured down His Love and left us with the Holy Spirit, an integral part of the Trinity-the Triune Nature of God that we may never be alone and that help is always with us. Revelation is ongoing, Christ lives; he never left us and God never leaves us for the Holy Spirit remains. This is the mystery of the Trinity. Thus-this is not an event that took place 2000 years ago; it is also now, it is today and tomorrow-it never ends until the final day.

  And this song comes to mind: I’ll Find My Way Home- by Jon and Vangelis. This to me is a very special song rich in layers of meaning and truly inspired. Just like all of our lives. Inspired by and through Christ.


You ask me where to begin?

Am I so lost in my sin?

You ask me where did I fall?

I’ll say I can’t tell you when

But if my spirit is lost

How will I find what is near

Don’t question I’m not alone

Somehow I’ll find my way home.


My sun shall rise in the East

So shall my heart be at peace

And if you’re asking me when

I’ll say it starts at the end.

You know your will to be free

Is matched with love secretly.

And talk will alter your prayer

Somehow you find you are there.


Your friend is close by your side

And speaks in far ancient tongue

A seasons’ wish will come true

All seasons begin with you

A world we all come from

A world we melt into one

Just hold my hand and we’re there

Somehow we’re going somewhere

Somehow we’re going somewhere.



You ask me where to begin?

Am I so lost in my sin?

You ask me where did I fall?

I’ll say I can’t tell you when.

But f my spirit is strong

I know it can’t be long

No questions I’m not alone

Somehow I’ll find my way home

Somehow I’ll find my way home

Somehow I’ll find my way home

Somehow I’ll find my way home


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