40 Years in America

The Day My Feet Left The Ground

Ronnie Fuhrimann

I was never a good fundraiser. Many times I had days were I only made 2 or 3 dollars. This particular day started out like one of those.

We were fundraising with peanut brittle, house to house somewhere in New Jersey. The team captain would often put me together with one Austrian brother, perhaps because we were so opposite in character. He was very straight and serious. Normally, we got along fine, but I was having one of those $2 days, so I was getting on his nerves. He would be all the way around the block before I had even finished four or five houses, and he would ask what was taking me so long.

By the evening run, I had had enough. After being dropped of, I leaned against the picket fence of a pretty little house for a long time. I just couldnít go on anymore. I hadnít made any money, and a lot of people had been negative. I had stopped to pray, but nothing changed. I didnít have the energy to go one more step. So I leaned against the picket fence and prayed one more time. I decided to fundraise at the pretty little house, but was going to quit right after.

A father and son answered the door at that house. They were so cheerful and friendly and they bought 2 for $5, thus doubling what I had made so far that day. I felt sufficiently uplifted to go on to the next house. From then on, I felt like I was floating from house to house. Nearly everyone was home and nearly everyone bought. My steps became so light, and movement was so effortless. I was enjoying the sensation, but never assumed it was more than that. I was still fundraising with the same brother. It wasnít until he kept asking me how it was that I was getting around the blocks so fast that I realized what an incredible spiritual experience I was having.

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