Thank you Martha Beck

Thank you for the gift of Expecting Adam. I know it's a story you had to tell. I can't imagine going around with all of that inside without exploding. I'm just glad you could channel the explosion into a book. I also realize that, it's a book. It's your story put out there for the masses to read or not, at will. But it feels like it was a gift you you you gave to me me me - lo these dozen or more years later. So Thank you thank you thank you. And thank you Adam, you little angel or bodhisattva or whatever one calls an enlightened being who takes on corporeal form to lend us mortals a hand.


Thank you, Martha, for not trying to disguise your experiences as a novel. There were sections in this book that I wouldn't have believed had they been written in the third person. I'm thinking particularly of that January night when you almost lost your baby. That vivid tale would have been so watered down if you'd had to tell me how someone else was feeling. I might not have cared about her. Thank you for giving me your story.

And thank you for letting me know that there's another woman out there who's been given a whole pan of spiritual brownies - who's actually felt the touch or heard the words of ... them - of God - of angels or saints or Buddha or the masters or the helpers or the source or whatever name makes it easier to squeak out of her mouth - and then gone on to forget the message, so that she has to come back and ask for More Brownies. I don't feel so greedy or stupid about how many pans of brownies I've asked for, received, consumed and then forgotten.

Thank you for telling me (memememe!!) about Parrot Woman who delivers messages from them. Thank you for admitting how scary it is to believe that we're safe, that we aren't alone, that there is a net underneath us. Thank you for laughing at yourself when you tell about about your doubts and your fears.

I know everything you wrote about in this book is true. I just know it. I've had those fabulous moments when the mists parted and glorious answers came to me, washing over me in love and calm warm glowing perfect peace. Like the time I was afraid to go see my mother, because my mean sister was going to be there to sneer at me, so I asked for help and they said "sure, let us take over" and at the last minute I thrust them away because I was afraid to let them take over. And then I burst into sobs. And then the voice said "Don't worry. I have many miracles." and then I could go visit my mama and the mean sister was still mean, but it didn't matter. Which was, of course, one of the many miracles.

Thank you for the story about the academics and the Smurf Tub. Thank you for your graciousness about the frightened doctor. Thank you all the way from the first page of this book to the last. I don't often talk about the spirits that I know are around me. Like you, I'm sure people are going to start backing away with glazed eyes, murmuring inanities while they search for the exit. I don't really have to talk about it too much anyway. Just if I'm asked. Or if the occasion seems like a good fit. But it's really really good to be reminded that I'm not the only one who knows and it's marvelous to hear how you discovered it. I once spent an evening with a dowser and as he told me what he did, tapping into the knowing, I realized that there were lots of doorways through the mist. My first experience was via prayer but after all, that was just another doorway.

And thank you, Martha, for putting your address at the bottom of your newsletter, so I can send you a copy of this thank-you. I hope you're feeling blissfully assured. You've certainly reminded me that I can be.

Thanks