Yesterday, I was coaching in the Givers 2 room, a place I can be found every weekend the Choices program is held in Calgary. I love being part of the Givers 2 team. I love the connection, the friendship, the sense of being on purpose working together with others to create a space where miracles unfold — and that is the most important aspect of what we do. To be present, to hold the space and allow — nature, Love, hearts, the opportunity to breathe deeply into the wonder and awe that is at the core of our shared human condition.

On Sunday’s, the day always begins with a spiritual ‘stretch’. A one hour opportunity for everyone to explore what it means to be spiritual beings, what it means to be connected to a power greater than ourselves, or however that is known through our own individual experience.

The speaker yesterday was a man for whom life had dealt a harsh blow. Eight years ago, his beautiful son Cameron died on an operating table at the age of 12. Afterwards, when I asked Todd, who was the speaker, if  I could share some of his story, he graciously told me I could. His story was powerful and moving. It spoke deeply of his faith, and in hearing it, I was moved by the grace of God, and the power of the Universe. I was awed.

There is a process in Choices that takes people on a journey along a trail to encounter the people in their lives who have had an impact. For most of us, this is our mothers and fathers. In his journey, Todd also encountered his son, Cameron. Todd entered that path carrying with him the anger he felt towards this God who had taken his son.  He harboured feelings of ill-will for this Being who could do something so cruel and incomprehensible. He was mad. And then, Todd met up with Cameron by a waterfall. He was smiling. Loving. Joyful. And with him, around him, all through him God’s love shimmered. And it was then that Todd saw the truth. While he had been angry with God, God was not angry with him. God embraced him in arms of Love. He comforted him and held him close, just as he always does, said Todd. No matter how far we stray from God, God is always there.

And then, Todd read the letter he had written to God the night after his encounter by the waterfall. He read it out loud to the 200+ people gathered in the room yesterday morning and we were moved to tears. Compassion. Love. Sorrow. Joy. They flowed through the room, into, around and out of hearts opening to the realization that as Todd shared, we were all connected through the wonder of our human spirits’ journey — We are not human beings on a spiritual journey, said Todd. We are spiritual beings on a human journey.

“Our life here now is but a breath,” said Todd. And in his words, I breathed into the grace that tingled in the air all around. I breathed into the knowing that I and you and we are all of the same spirit, the same essence — beautiful, magnificent, delightful, divine. No matter our faith, colour, history. We are all the same.

Yesterday, I saw into the heart of ‘the one who breathed stars into existence’ as Todd described it, and felt my soul sing, my heart break-open and my mind come to rest in the grace of being part of this human race.

Yes. Incomprehensible things happen in this world. We fight. We kill. We squabble. We hurt ourselves and each other. We do not share our wealth so that all the world can eat or drink clean water. We do not open our minds through eyes of love to see our differences as the beautiful essence of what connects us all. We do not celebrate our divine essence and instead run away from the truth of being connected through our being human.

We forget. The miracle of our birth. The essential beauty of our divine essence. The essential magnificence of our being human.

We forget.

It is time to remember.

In the telling of one man’s story I remembered yesterday. And that is enough to make a difference today in how I approach my day. Stepping out from the darkness of believing, I do not make a difference, I celebrate all the difference we make when we breathe into the truth of our magnificence and soar.