I grew up in Massachusetts, but when I was married, I lived in Sacramento, California. My daughter was born there. I do not remember going to services, but my husband did so I must have had some contact. The synagogue was hard up for a Sunday School teacher, and the cantor asked me if I would help out. I told him I had no background and all but he didn't see that as a problem. Isn't that a wonder?

I had a second grade class, and I pretty much did what I wanted. I guess there were books and we talked about the holidays and I faked it pretty well. I also remember doing some Waldorf School type things with the children. We reenacted creation! As God created the world, we put our arms up into a round O, and we said a big Ohhh. Then Adam named everything and Eve followed him around. After each naming, we all said a big admiring Ahhh, and we raised our arms in awe.

I had no faith, and no concern with God, and yet I would tell my daughter a story when she was little, about how God was looking for a wonderful little girl for her father and me, how God searched all over the world for the most precious child. He looked here and he looked there, until he found a magnificent little girl for us named Lauren. Of course, I strung it out.

It was only after I started meditating that I began to discover I was a spiritual being. My daughter was twelve then. My conscious desire for God grew and grew. I can remember times I was absolutely desperate to know God. I would pound my pillow, and cry out: "I want to know God. And I want to know I know." That went on for a couple of years before Godwriting started.