Article April 29, 2002 Issue

Maria of Cartegena

Two new friends find trust on a bus ride.

By Shelly Richardson

ANSWERS FROM THE Divine come. Not always in the way we expect, but they come, Maybe you'll hear an answer in the smell of a fragrant rose in an English garden, in the roar of ocean waves at night—or in the eyes of a humble prostitute.

Now, if you're expecting some glorious story of reformation, this isn't it. Or perhaps it is. I can't be sure.

I met Maria (not her real name, but just as beautiful) during a time of spiritual searching in my life. It might be more appropriate to say dodging. I'd always considered myself a sincere spiritual seeker. But I bailed out when the questions became too complicated, and I doubted God's ability to heal me of myself. Disheartened and disappointed in my own inability to master inner demons or become a better person, I settled for a while in Cartegena, Spain, to take a reprieve from the dialogue I'd been having with the Infinite and to just disappear from the world.