Journey

When I go to the Ranch I feel at home. I walk the creek and I know each rise and fall of the earth. All my senses come alive as I smell the smells I have known all my life; hear the silence like no other place I have been. Each place I see can bring up a memory from my past, both good and bad, but mostly good. The place I grew up. The place I learned and understood. And each time I return it seems like even the rocks can talk and tell me how far I have come and, sometimes, why I have come on this journey. The Ranch brings with it the peace of "knowing"
myself better.
I wonder sometimes where and when my spiritual journey began. Was it as I played with lambs and other animals and lived close to nature? Was it as I listened to Grandpa Carroll struggle with his faith? Was it when I overheard him talking on the 9 party line with his friend Harold about if it was possible to not lust after women? Was it when I sensed his fear of Hell? Was it as I listened to the many missionaries who stopped at the Ranch and shared their experiences of God answering their prayers in marvelous ways? Was it as I sat around Grandpa's living room, basking in the presence of the Holy Spirit as my family and others prayed and shared testimony? Was it the faith I saw and continue to see in my Mother as she went about her life believing, confident God is with us?
I remember being in church when it was at the town hall, willing with all of my heart, to focus my attention of the words being shared from the pulpet. Wanting, above all else, to know and understand God. Even in high school when others were intent on their activities or boys (not that I didn't also enjoy these!), my greatest desire was to please God, understand God's ways, do God's will. I thought when I was grade school age that I might be a nunn. Not realizing, of course, that it was not an occupation that was consistant with the church I attended. I just knew that these women had an inside track to what I wanted most.
When I was driving home one night after a date with my "first Love" he told me he believed i was "the one" the girl he would marry. I told him that if God told me to marry someone else, then I would. He didn't like that very well. He thought I was crazy. But I believed God would lead me. And God did.
Looking back, I wonder why I was so intense about this. Why did I, early on, desire God so much?