"I find that nothing guarantees a more loving and soulful talk than a communion with God beforehand."

Larissa Kaye Batten (LLbeara@aol.com) writes "Soul Food," a weekly column for SpiritSite.com.  

Larissa is a prolific writer whose work has been featured in several publications.

"Ask God to help you to help at least one person in this room tonight," a friend told me before I spoke in public for the first time.

I lowered my head, folded my hands tightly around my fear, and prayed with all the vehemence of an intensely nervous woman.

"Please God, help me to help at least one person in this room," I asked.

My prayer was answered. When I spoke, I was alive, clear, and full of light.

I have spoken many times since, and I never forget to say that very same prayer I uttered the first time. "Please God, help me to help at least one person."

Today I might have more speaking experience. I might have more spiritual awareness. I might have a deeper message to carry. But still, I find that nothing guarantees a more loving and soulful talk than a communion with God beforehand.

"Thank you God for helping me to speak," I say afterward.

I have learned along my spiritual path that this principle of carrying God's message to at least one soul is not exclusive to the world of speaking.

Recently, I paid $50 to set up a table at the Bluffton Festival in the small town of Bluffton, South Carolina.

"Uh oh," I thought after shelling out the bucks. "I have to make back at least $50 to make this experience worthwhile."

No sooner had I made this declaration to myself than I became driven to create as much framed poetry as possible to sell at the festival.

I whipped poems out of nowhere, printed them out, threw extras and draft copies everywhere, spewed decorative glitter, and banished my husband from the kitchen so I could make as much money as possible.

"These tables have to look professional," I told my husband.

I wish I could say I spoke to him in kind and gentle words. Quite honestly, I was far too worked up over making the perfect sales on the perfectly laid out tables.

I spent a good part of the festival day trying to keep myself cooled off enough not to faint.

"I have to sell enough, I have to sell enough." The mantra rang in my head as hour after hour passed by.

I was not only determined to make back my $50, but I wanted to prove to my husband even creative people like me can make enough money to contribute to household costs.

The whole time, my ego was ready to burst through the roof of my head.

"If I am truly a good writer," I thought to myself, "I will sell a lot of my work today."

But wait a second. I have spent virtually the past eight years of my life intensely trying to lead a fulfilling, spiritual life. Thankfully, amidst the raw heat and huge crowds of the day, this clicked in my spirit.

"If I could just touch one soul today," I remembered. "If I could just touch one soul…"

"Okay, I can do this," I told myself. "I can help one person here. That's all I need to do."

My ego, of course, still tried to reassert itself.

"You still have to make that $50 back," it reminded me.

"Just help one person, just help one person," my soul replied.

Thankfully, the soul won out at the end of the day.

About halfway through the day, a woman with brown curls arrived at my table as a messenger, a reminder. I had seen those curls before, although this time they were tucked back into a ponytail.

"I don't know if you remember me," she said. "You were here at this festival last year, weren't you? I remember your work. I bought a few things from you."

Of course I remembered her. She had been moved by my work the year before; she had spent so much time at my table. I was delighted that she was moved. She seemed like a kindred spirit.

I was rekindled by her presence. She had come to remind me that if only I can touch one soul, I have passed on to another the light of God.

By the end of the day, my husband and I together had made back well over the $50 I had spent to sell my work at the festival.

We made our profit by selling cold water, sodas, used CDs, secondhand books, a few of my books-on-CD, and one single framed poem.

One single framed poem.

The buyer? My angel friend with brown curls.

I spoke to a number of other writers and artists at the festival, and their message was clear.

"Don't quit," they told me.

I will have good days and bad days, they explained. But I need to show up for all of them, for they are steps on the road to the success.

Yes, I would like to sell zillions of my framed poems. I would like to publish all of my books, become famous, and help the world to hear God's message.

But if the truth be told, that is all icing on the cake.

I have already touched one soul.

Success is not measured in millions of dollars and high praise from the world.

Success is the miracle of sharing love. Whether I share my love with everyone, or whether I share love with just one soul, I am a miracle.

I am a child of God, and as a child of God I am a messenger.

God does not measure his love for me in numbers.

God loves me just as I am.

Fifty bucks is a few pieces of green and white paper.

Touching another soul is for the love of God.

To touch one soul is immeasurable.

Thank you, God, for the touch of love.

Amen.

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