A Reckoning with God, that Changed Everything

My soul conversations with Spirit are a bit more nuanced now. Remembering this door opening experience in my twenties brings glimmers of thanksgiving alive, anew.

Listen to Pegge read her reckoning with God, together with reflection sparks for you.

Craig and I were in Las Vegas for a trade show, my first and only time to Vegas. The year was 1986 or ‘87. The Karl-Lorimar Home Video booth at the Consumer Electronics Show (CES) was giving away $1,000, and you had to be present to win. I wrote my name on a slip of paper, in purple ink, from the calligraphy pen I carried in my purse, and placed it in the large open-mouthed jar with a silver metal lid.

A few days earlier, driving north on Pacific Coast Highway in Dana Point, California, I took the usual curve a bit fast coming up the hill past Party Time liquor and the Crystal Cafe, toward the stop light at Golden Lantern. I was 24, in my aqua 1966 Volkswagen bug, preoccupied with life, in a battle with an internal conversation with God, whoever God was.

The light was red at Golden Lantern and PCH. I idled in neutral, the clutch in.

“Are you real, do you love me?” I said to an invisible God. “I don’t believe it. Can I believe it? My life is so lost—I’m lost—Who Am I?” I cried inside. “I’m such a failure, are you real?”

I took a breath, still waiting for the light to change, and heard a whisper back simply said, “I am.”

The light changed to green, I shifted into first gear, alone in the car, beginning to accelerate. “Then prove it,” I said out loud. “Prove it to me that you are real, and I’ll believe.” I went on a little longer, “I’m broke. My car needs fixed. I’ve got bills to pay.”

I ended saying, “I dare you. Show me. Then I’ll believe.”

Contemplative Pegge about this time | image by Craig Peterson

In Vegas, it was nearing 5:00 p.m. Craig and I were both a bit tired from a full day. My boyfriend and the love of my young life, I worked with him in his side-gig, Solo Sports Video, a struggling video distribution company of mostly windsurfing action videos.

“I have to go back to the Karl-Lorimar booth,” I said. “It’s almost time.” Somewhat annoyed—and he rarely got annoyed—he replied, “For what?” I replied with a little sass, “I’m going to win that thousand dollars.” In the mid 1980s, a grand was a lot. “I’m going back now,” I said. “You don’t need to come. I’ll find you in a bit.” I made my way to the booth in the back of the arena or convention center—it was packed and the hall was full of people. A man with a microphone stood on a makeshift stage in the booth and was beginning to pull the winning entry from the glass jar. “It will be purple ink,” I said aloud to no one in particular, now standing still, waiting.

“Pegge Erkeneff, come on up!”

My name reverberated through speakers to the booths and surrounding area. I turned to Craig who had followed me, smiling with delight and surprise, and made my way to the mini stage. “Hold out your hand,” the man said to me. Then he counted ten crisp $100 bills into my palms—I’d never seen that much money! Heart pounding, everyone clapping, and beginning to walk away, I hugged Craig, said, “Lobster for dinner—let’s celebrate!”

Less than a minute later, walking out of the tradeshow, Craig’s hand in mine, I felt a chill and sudden gut clench. Purple ink, my arrogant cry of the heart dare to God from my ’66 VW bug a few days prior at the stop light caused me to stumble and blink. “Dare I believe?” I wondered silently. “Damb right daughter of mine,” shouted in my being. “I had to get your attention. Life is going to change.”

Oh. My. God.

“Open my spirit” -Pegge | image by Craig Peterson

Reflecting

My soul conversations with Spirit are a bit more nuanced now. However, remembering this door opening experience in my twenties brings a glimmer of thanksgiving today. Recalling decades of tender solace offers a key to my future.

There is so much more I could say and interpret about this—theologically, psychologically, emotionally, intellectually. And yet, even as I’ve traversed the four movements of spirit over the past four decades since that January day in the 1980s, I could never in a million years have predicted how Spirit would dramatically change and shape my life once I opened my spirit. I know that this moment was true, and what I needed to open my eyes, listen, see a different understanding of the world, of who God’s identity could be in my life. The meaning I ascribe to it changed everything. It was a glimmer of an opening to my soul, an invitation to explore and trust. To put aside outdated or naive concepts of God, and take the first step, right in front of me. A seeker, I would find eventually my way home, wherever I traveled, and one day realize that it was I who was absent—God is always present. Over and over through the years, I would be accompanied in unexpected ways when I most needed it. And, in 2024, once again on my own and feeling alone, I am learning to trust this spiral of understanding anew.

Journal sparks for you:

• Have you ever given a test or dare to a spiritual connection that you intuited, didn’t quite believe in, or knew to be true?
  Describe what you remember, and what happened—use all your senses to remember. What did you feel, hear, see, smell, taste? Where were you, was anyone with you? Did you make a meaning of the experience? Reflecting now, without judgement, is there something more that wants to be known?

• Write a “cry of the heart” prayer or poem that describes you in the current time of your life.
  Where do you need help? What support do you need? What might you desire to understand? And, don’t forget: what do you celebrate—where do you experience thanksgiving and gratitude? It’s always a both-and. It’s important to be kind to those wounded and hurting parts within us, and not dismiss their seeking of tenderness, simultaneously while we can be so thankful.
  

Disclaimer: I no longer believe in testing Spirit like I did in my early 20s. I do, however, believe in a cry of the heart that might be a lament, a need, or absolute gratitude and thanksgiving.