Why Me?

Marveling at the sheer absurdity that such a miracle could/would happen to me, I began to ask, “Why me? Why has this happened to me?” And immediately and consistently the answer came, always the same.

“Why not you? Why not everyone!? “

I realized that of course the same transformation is intended for everyone. Like the bedraggled Grizabella in “Cats!”, I needed it at the moment perhaps more than anyone I know. I was sure, however, anyone and everyone who needed and wanted what had come to me could have the same thing.

I wanted to shout my story from the rooftops, tell everyone I knew about my miraculous experience. My family accused me of deciding everyone needed an experience like mine. They weren’t far wrong. I became more and more certain that everyone who wanted the freedom and joy that had come to me could have it through a catharsis similar to mine.

With few exceptions, my friends wanted to label the sickness I’d be through a rough virus. Some, when I mentioned miracle, seemed surprised to the point of being fearful, perhaps that I was going to harass them with some born-again story. I wish they had let me.

Several of my closest friends easily recognized that I had experienced something life-changing. And said so. They could hear it beyond my words, feel it in my voice, and sense it in the calmness I exhibited.

My mother suggested I begin writing the experience. So in the summer of 1982, I began making notes and constructing an outline. I jotted down quotes from the hilarious incidents that immediately began to prove—as if I needed further proof—that something absolutely extraordinary has occurred deep in my psyche and was being felt throughout my personality.