Spirituality: A Life Force

SPIRITUALITY:

A LIFE FORCE

by

CHRISTINE A ADAMS

Table of Contents

SPIRITUALITY:  A LIFE FORCE

Chapter One:  Spiritual Teaching

Chapter Two:  Spiritual Teacher Characteristics

Chapter Three:  A Spiritual Identity

Chapter Four:  Spiritual Living

Chapter Five:  Spiritual Relating

Chapter Six:  Spiritual Purposes

Chapter Seven:  Spiritual Healing

Chapter Eight:  Spiritual Solutions

Chapter Nine Spiritual Energy and Miracles

Also by Christine A. Adams

COPYRIGHT

Third Edition Reprint

Copyright© 2020 Christine A Adams

All rights reserved.

ISBN 13: 9781393978640

Published by Hanley Adams Publishing - 2020

All rights reserved.

Second Edition Reprint

Copyright© 2019 Christine A Adams

All rights reserved.

ISBN 13:  978-1-7331986-5-3

Published by Christine A. Adams - 2019

All rights reserved.

First Edition- Reprint

Copyright@2017 Christine A Adams

ISBN: 10 154052595

ISBN 13: 978-1540525291

Published by Christine A. Adams - 2017

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Printed in United States of America

Chapter One:

Spiritual Teaching

Aspecial teac her—everyone seems to have a special teacher story! My story started in the seventh grade with Mrs. Parsons, the most loving teacher I ever had. Ironically, I remember her being especially well dressed.

I wondered how she got everything to match so well? Or is it good? Well and good. She told us something about those words. Well, anyway her shoes and her belt match, and it's just the right color to go with her beige skirt and sweater. She's matched up like that, not just once a week, but every day. Today she's sitting on the radiator by the window watching us finish our test.

Diagramming sentences. It's getting so hard. I think this sentence has double or triple gerund phrases. Oh! Oh! Here she comes!

When you finish, Christine. You and your cast can go out in the hall to rehearse.

Alright, Mrs. Parsons.

I loved the idea of having my own cast of players, so I put down three parallel lines and joined them with a dotted line, put my paper on the desk and gave the signal to Jimmy and Peggy.

This week we would do a crazy play called Who Put The Overalls In Mrs. Murphy's Chowder? It was based on a song that came straight from Ireland just like my mother, Bridget McKenna. I hope these kids get it! It being Irish and all.

Everyone laughed when we were running around the front of the room trying to find out who put the pants in the soup—so I guess the play was a success. Mrs. Parson's stopped laughing long enough to say something about unusual and different.  She always said something nice!

Just then the bell rang. In their rush to get out, some of the kids knocked over the pot and the big spoon we were using for props. Mrs. Parsons helped us pick up the stuff. I told her some of my ideas for next week and she said, That seems like a good idea, Christine. Why don't you write it up and I'll look at it.

And I've been writing things up ever since. Thirteen books printed in 24 countries and as many languages. And some place out there in the world there's 2,000,000 separate non-fiction pieces in print that happen to have my name on them. It all began when she said, Christine, why don't you write it up?

But we did a lot more than silly little plays those years. I was fortunate enough to get Mrs. Parsons for English for three years. They moved her up and somehow, she kept getting our class. She made sure I understood the well and good thing, diagrammed more tough sentences, and studied Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice.

Mrs. Parsons had this kind of tricky learning. You got a contract and decided how much work you would do and what your grade would be. Everyone would try to get an A and we all put together this Globe theatre thing. But we learned!

I learned so much in those years that English became my favorite subject in high school, I majored in English in College, and got my Master's in British Literature. Then, I went right out in the world and taught British Literature to high school seniors for 32 years. Just like Mrs. Parsons, the same old thing, diagramming sentences, Shakespeare, and contracts! Some of my students even became English teachers like me.

But there's more than English to the Mrs. Parson's story. There was something about the way she cared for everyone. Her sense of fairness was just like her matching outfits—the same all the way around. It didn't matter if life was hard for you, or if you were poor, she loved you just the way you were. Simply put, she had a way of loving and valuing you until you could love yourself. She did it by teaching you what she was and what you were to her!

She was awfully busy in those days loving and caring for so many kids. It was like they were her own huge family and she wanted them to make it in the world. She set a high standard for herself and for us. We noticed! We listened!

During my freshman year, which was my last year with Mrs. Parson's, my father died, and my mother was left with eight kids from ages two to fifteen. We didn't hear many Irish songs around our house anymore. But Mrs. Parsons helped me find my way through that painful year. Then, she continued to help my brothers and sisters as they came along. These were discouraging times, but she always cared and held us to a high standard. Again, simply put, she loved and valued us until we could love ourselves.

One thing about Mrs. Parsons, she was tough. She never gave up on us. We all tested her, each one of us in a new and different way. Sometimes she was the last ally on the playing field.

We're all a little older these days. Now, I can call Mrs. Parsons, Jenny. She is still my inspiration, my teacher, and my friend. Some days we talk about teaching English with an excitement that only two former English teachers can muster up. We talk about how great it was to be a teacher, and tell stories about our school kids.  Some days we talk of memories of my youth, or her youth. Some days we just talk about life. But we never run out of things to talk about.

And when I tell her I have an idea for a new book, she keeps saying to me, Christine, why don't you write that up? And I do. Things haven't changed much really. I still love and admire her now just as I did then. Sometimes I remember the day the class laughed about the overalls in Mrs. Murphy's chowder and the tone of her voice when she said, unusual and different.  And I think how strange it is that I remember the tone of her voice?

When I think of her tone of voice, I remember to tell her, You are the reason my life began to take form—back in the seventh grade, and continues moving forward today. You were my best teacher!

But what is a good teacher?

In the eyes of the world we think of good teachers as the ones who give special information to learners.  That special learning might be an area of the teacher's expertise: math, language arts, physics, science—areas of expertise that pertain to a body of knowledge within the physical world. In that sense and on those occasions, the teacher does impart special information to the learner.

Yet almost everyone has a Mrs. Parsons story like mine. A story of someone who reached beyond the body of knowledge in some spiritual way. The teaching might not have occurred in a classroom setting. The teacher might have been a family member, a friend or even a stranger.

It was someone who provided an inspiring example to the learner; someone who believed in themselves first and then transferred that belief to the student and encouraged them. That is really why these teachers are remembered—not for the grammar, the equations, the formulas they taught or situations of life they shared with you. They are remembered for the love they showed.

When love and caring are involved, a new kind of teacher emerges, and the lesson is spiritual. The student learns to love by the example of love given. These teachers become spiritual teachers of love, or Teachers of God.

Of course, I followed in Mrs. Parson’s footsteps and became an English teacher. I tried to live up to her example and the learner became the teacher—literally. In following a teaching profession, I had plenty of opportunities to show love for my students and many times my students, the learners, became my teacher.

Each year as I started my school year, inevitably, there would be a boy or girl who was so starved for love that they became a discipline problem to get attention. They would be abusive in language, loud, and unruly; therefore, they became the first to report to the principal’s office.

I remember Billy, a tall good looking senior, who appeared to be tough and mean. Billy had disruption down to a science! There were interruptions, burping in class, side comments and faces in his repertoire. I complied with his wishes for attention and sent him directly to the principal’s office.

On the third trip, he divulged this information as he left the room, Just trying to break my record. Last year's English teacher threw me out thirty-three times.  I thought about that and decided to stop throwing him out. I began to teach only love.

When he was abusive, I went up to him and in a loving voice corrected him. He didn't know what to do with the love. This might have been the first time anyone treated him that way.

As the year progressed, the situation got better when Billy was allowed to read Stephen King in an independent reading program. He devoured the books and remained quiet in class. When I went to The American Bookseller's Convention that year, I told Stephen King's publisher about Billy and he sent copies of his latest books. Billy was impressed!

The turning point came when I did a positive affirmations exercise with the class. Each student was supposed to list ten positive things about another student. No one picked Billy! So, I made up his list! He watched me write: 1. tall 2. good-looking 3. nice smile 4. dark hair 5. loyal 6. persistent 7. loves to read 8. beautiful face 9. dark eyes 10. never forgets. When I was done, he smiled and said, How did you know that stuff.  I said, I just know, Billy.  Teaching is not all English—it's love.

It was true Billy was a terrible student—ill disciplined, aggravating, rude, and disrespectful. But I asked God to let me see him differently through the eyes of love rather than fear. By changing my perspective of him, I changed his of himself. It's like that—love generates love.

We give love to others so that we can remain at peace within ourselves. I didn't let Billy run rampant over the class as we did the typical test of authority in the early days of the class. Then, when it was appropriate, I switched and let love in—not out of weakness but out of strength. There’s the difference. So many people think it’s weak to be defenseless but, at appropriate times, defenselessness shows great power. Teaching love looks passive sometimes, but it generates a lasting energy.

A child of God is a teacher of God.

I first encountered the term, A Teacher of God, in reading A Course In Miracles. Before that time, I believed that Sister Theresa, Gandhi, or the Dali Lama might fit that description but not the ordinary person.

Then, as I continued to read The Course and write about love in Living In Love, published in 1993 by Health Communications, Inc., I began to understand that we all are teachers. Whether we know it or not, we all teach what we are. If we believe that God is Love, and that we are of God; then we teach only Love. In that spiritual sense we are Teachers of God.

The teacher and learner are the same!

Another concept that baffled me at first was the notion that the teacher and learner are the same. How could that be? I always saw the teacher as the leader imparting some special information to the learner—using the worldly definition of teaching. However, as we learn, we teach by showing what we are.

Let's look at teaching as a demonstration. The Course describes two thought systems: one governed by the ego and the material world of illusions and the other governed by the spirit. It makes sense that if you choose the spiritual path, you will teach what you are learning, as a matter of fact; you will witness to attest what you believe. In that sense the teacher and the learner are the same.

In this sense spiritual teaching is not done by words alone. It is done through every situation of your life which becomes a chance to teach others what you are and what they are to you. No more than that, but never less! (ACIM)

Examples of spiritual teaching!

Parenting affords us the opportunity to teach what we are and to demonstrate to our children what they are to us. The world can be falling down around the child but as long as there are parental examples of love and courage, the learning is going on.

In recounting my childhood in an unpublished autobiographical work entitled The Chokecherry Tree, I wrote of a time of great significance—the end of World War 11. As important as the war was in my memory, even more significant was the night of the birth of my brother, David.

1945—The End of World War 11—and the Birth of David

Then it happened! President Franklin Delano Roosevelt died. I guess he hadn’t been well for quite a while. A man named Harry Truman became president. People worried about the war effort and what would happen in America. Everyone was very sad when F.D.R. died. It was like the whole world turned dark overnight.

Suddenly, a short time later, that darkness lifted when the war ended in 1945. There were stories about people dancing in the streets, and newspaper pictures of soldiers and sailors kissing girls. Everything seemed brand new. Shining—like the buttons on the soldiers uniforms.

Bridie McKenna, my mother, was due to have a new child. On the night, the sixth child, David, was born, it snowed. The whiteness began to collect on the windows in the kitchen. The driveway filled up, the front porch steps were slippery.

When Mike came home from work, he realized they were in for a terrible nor’easter, so he shoveled out the driveway before supper. I’ve had a little pain, off and on, she said as they sat down to supper. The corn beef and cabbage was piled in a dish in the middle of the table. Steam rose into the air. The butter was on a long narrow dish beside the bread.

Mike knew it might be a long night, so he ate heartily. The kids ran around the kitchen table playing together. Mommy, Michael is hitting us, the girls reported to their weary mother.

Mike she answered directing the question to her weary husband. Mike reluctantly left his food and went into the living room to straighten out the kids. He put Danny in his playpen, gave Michael a puzzle and Raymond some trucks to play with and sent the girls to their rooms to do their homework.

Michael you keep an eye on Raymond and Danny, and have that puzzle done by the time I come back, he said sternly to his son. A break in the noise ensued. There was a