On My Way Home

ONMY WAYHOMEOne womans journey in search of the unknown God

An enthralling true-life story of a courageous woman who found home after looking for love and enlightenment in all the wrong places. Dr Mark Stibbe

Deborah Armin

Deborah A

rmin

ON

MY W

AY H

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If youre really real then I need you to come to me right now! I need you to show up for me because if you dont Im going to end it all. I cant take any more. I feel destroyed.

Many people yearn for home, in both a literal and spiritual sense. After years of spiritual searching, Deborah was at her wits end. Having experienced abuse, a failed marriage, and unhealthy relationships as a result of looking for love in all the wrong places, Deborah needed to meet someone who would never let her down. And when life was at rock bottom, she did.

On My Way Home is an awe-inspiring and honest account of powerful spiritual forces at work in a womans life, of her journey towards freedom, and the victory of meeting the One who could truly fulfil her needs. If you know you need to make changes in your life but dont know how, or are looking for meaning, for love and for God, then Deborahs story will challenge you and give you hope.

Born in England, Deborah Armin grew up in South Africa and Kuwait until her parents separated, and has followed various careers in America and the UK. She has a degree in theology from the London School of Theology.

BIOGRAPHY & AUTOBIOGRAPHY/Personal Memoirs

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A Gathering of Angels

My marriage coincided with a new quest for the spiritual dimension to life. I found a New Age crystal store and spent a lot of time there, getting to know the staff and reading books by authors such as Brian Weiss, Shirley MacLaine and Nancy Friday. I studied a lot about the 11:11 movement which was big in the early 1990s, and listened to whatever tapes I could find. I consulted with astrologers and psychics, made my own runes and bought a variety of tarot cards. I attended shaman sessions and past-life regression sessions. I tried Buddhism, chanting Om mani uadme hum, and visited an ashram. I went on spiritual retreats and attended meetings. I used crystals and a Ouija board, gazed into crystal balls and went digging for garnets and quartz. I tried channelling and auto-matic writing. In the end, I was in the New Age crystal store so often that the manager gave me a job there.

Many of those I met during this time were lovely, open individuals who were on a similar quest for spiritual knowl-edge and enlightenment. All of us were trying to make sense of our existence and looking wherever we could for answers. I can only remember a few who seemed to me to have an aura of darkness around them.

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My spiritual quest became so intense during this phase that at one point I even looked into witchcraft, but aside from meeting a few white witches and trying out a few spells I didnt get very far. Something or someone held me back from becoming too involved, and in the end it was a convent not a coven that attracted me.

One day I decided to go to a convent with a friend from the store. While we were there she wanted to go into the convent shop. She had been brought up a Catholic so she was interested in what they had there.

I remember being drawn to the crucifixes although I didnt buy one. Later, as my friend and I strolled around the con-vent grounds, we came to a hill overlooking a lake. A cross had been planted on the top and we walked around it before sitting down to enjoy the view.

Before we left, I heard a voice in my heart saying, Look down!

The voice took me by surprise, but I obeyed and dropped my gaze to my feet.

Where there had been only dirt and a bit of grass before, now there was a handmade rosary.

Where did that come from? I asked, pointing to the rosary.

I dont know, my friend replied, but it definitely wasnt there when I walked over that spot a few moments ago.

What do you think it means?I dont know, she replied, but its given me the chills.I just feel peace, I said, as I took the rosary in my hands

and pocketed it.I still have that today.


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It will be no surprise to learn that during this season I referred to myself as a spiritual seeker. As you know by now, I had always been aware of someone watching over me and the incident with the rosary made me wonder whether this was some kind of sign from the unknown God. That in turn added fuel to my desire to seek after truth wherever I could find it and to experience the spiritual and mystical realm as often as I could.

It was about this time that I began to have some interesting out-of-body experiences. These took the same form float-ing in my spirit above a location, seeing things, relating these observations to someone else, and them confirming that what I had seen in my out-of-body state was real.

The first time this happened I was lifted up in my spirit over our house and saw some things which I then described to my husband and which he confirmed.

Another time we were camping, having decided to dig for quartz. During the night some people arrived next to us on the site. I was lifted up in my spirit above my tent and saw the people arrive and noted what they looked like. In the morn-ing I woke up and the people next door had already left. I told my husband what I had observed. He had been up much earlier and seen them. He confirmed that this was exactly how the people looked. He was amazed by how accurate all the details were because he knew that I had been zipped up inside the tent and had not left it all night.

However, this didnt mean my husband shared my interest in spiritual phenomena. In fact, he didnt seem to have a spir-itual bone in his body. The only hint of any spirituality was when he went hunting. He would pray to his forefathers during


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the hunting season for a big buck. Otherwise we were travel-ling different paths. He was into shooting and fishing and I was into crystals and runes.

As these paths diverged, two other paths reunited. I am referring here to my relationship with my dad, which had broken down as a result of the divorce and abandonment. I had begun to do some informal study of psychology, espe-cially into the effects that a womans relationship with her dad has on her relationships with men. I realized that the lack of a fathers love had scarred me deeply.

I looked into therapy around this time because I knew that I needed help with my father-wounds. I also knew that the only way forward was to forgive my dad; otherwise my hurts would continue to obstruct true intimacy in my relationships with men. I was especially keen that my own emotional bag-gage wouldnt adversely affect my marriage.

With that in mind, I decided to contact Dad with a view to reconciling with him. My dad had not tried to get in touch with me, to find me or get to know me since leaving us that fateful day he had called at our house in Somerton from Kuwait. So I knew there was a risk of further rejection. But I persisted anyway. Not only was I spiritually thirsty, I was also suffering from a deep father hunger.

It was through my sister that I discovered how to find Dad. I wrote some letters to him and then we had a very emo-tional reunion. As soon as I forgave him for the hurts he had caused me as a child I felt free. It was as if a great weight had been lifted from both of us and consequently a new relation-ship was forged between us. It was a little challenging at first because he was living in Ireland and I was in America, the



time difference didnt help when it came to calling him on the phone. But the journey to healing had begun and I was excited by that.

My spiritual journey was gathering pace too, and I started a guided meditation group called A Gathering of Angels. This was for spiritual guidance and support. I knew that angels existed because Id always had a sense that I was being watched and cared for by someone or something invisible. As I started the group I was thrilled to find people who shared my beliefs.

The Gathering of Angels would meet at my house or, on the odd occasion, at one of the other members houses. I sug-gested we all wear white. I had no real idea why I felt that way except that it seemed to symbolize purity and light.

I remembered my confession as a 10-year-old that day back in Kuwait in front of my Barbie dolls house when I had said I wanted to wear only white linen, cotton or silk that I wanted to be pure.

It felt as though something was coming full circle. Then, one day, something extraordinary occurred in the

group. I was guiding the members through a meditation and encouraging them to visualize what I was describing. I am a very visual person with a rich dream life and an equally rich imagination, so visualization was easy for me. I began to describe what I was seeing to the group.

Let me take you on a journey, I said. You are in a garden and slightly to your right is an archway covered in beautiful roses.

I paused.Just beyond the archway a very bright light is radiating. It

is a brilliant, white light.


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I paused again, allowing my listeners to see what I was see-ing and to drink in the moment.

During the silence I began to see something. There was a figure coming towards me.

There is a man approaching under the arch, I said, and he is surrounded by an immense amount of light.

I paused again.The group waited.But I couldnt say any more.I was utterly overwhelmed by the mans magnificence,

struck dumb by his majesty.Tears streamed down my face.All I eventually could do was stutter: There is a . . . very

important being . . . in this room . . . and we are just . . . to be . . . in his presence . . .

I knew who it was. It was Jesus. But I simply couldnt get his name out of my mouth. That was not unusual for me. I had visited my friends church a couple of times and had even come across a Bible. But for some obscure reason I had never been able to utter the name Jesus.

As he walked closer to me, the light of his glory was dazzling.

To my right I saw a well. He walked over to it and then beckoned to me to come and sit with him. In my mind I walked over to him and he started to speak to me. But I couldnt hear what he was saying. All I could do was cry quietly as I watched him stir the water with his left hand.



I dont know how long it was before the vision began to fade and I eventually closed the session but a few of the mem-bers had described feeling an amazing presence.

All of us went home quietly that day, feeling stunned.In our Gathering of Angels, it seemed as if we had met

with someone who was more than an angel.


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On My Way Home