I’ve wanted to serve others since I was young. But in college I got lost. I developed a philosophy of “if it feels good, do it,” and I was really getting off track. Then, at 19, I set out on a 13-month journey through Turkey, Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan, India and Sri Lanka. I saw so much suffering: poor families, beggars, children begging in the streets. I came home realizing how much I had as a middle-class kid, and I wanted to use what I had more wisely. I’ve been searching for how to help ever since.

I never planned to have children. I thought they’d keep me from saving the world. God had other plans. I had my son, Christopher, with my first husband, Cliff, and then my daughter, Maud, with Robert.

In 1999, my life fell apart. Rejection, a failing marriage, one painful thing after another. It hurt so much that I believed I was going to take my life. I didn’t feel safe with anyone, not even a hotline. I thought it would be better to run away than to keep living with those thoughts. Maud was 3 and Christopher was 10. I left them with their fathers, knowing they’d be cared for. They carry scars from that time. But I believe the scars could have been far worse. I’m glad to say we have a good relationship now.

I snuck away from home with a big backpack, my sleeping bag strapped on like a backpacker, and walked far enough to call a taxi, afraid someone would see me and follow. From the back seat of that taxi, I saw a church sign that said, “Go in peace, I am with you.” I wasn’t a Christian then, though I loved Jesus. I took it as a sign.

I headed for Asheville, North Carolina, hoping to stay at Earthaven, an ecovillage I’d long admired. They couldn’t take me. But that very same day, I was taken care of. A farm about an hour outside Asheville that grew Chinese herbs was looking for interns. The owner, Joe, said someone happened to be coming into town that evening and could pick me up. I thought I might have to sleep on the concrete behind the health food store. Instead, I had a bed that night.

I confessed to Joe that I was running away, and asked if he still wanted me. He said yes. The people there knew my story. They were young, beautiful, and some of the kindest people I’ve ever known. They took me along to everything going on in the area.

That’s how I ended up at a permaculture conference that used something called Open Space Technology. There was no set agenda, just one big question and a circle of people. Anyone could offer a topic, and people went wherever their hearts led. I was enthralled, and I still am, 27 years later.

After three weeks, I called my family. After about six weeks, I went home, and I never ran away again. I thought I’d be rejected and seen as a failure for the rest of my life. It wasn’t true. People accepted me. In time I reconciled with everyone.

I’ve since realized that a healthy family is itself a way of changing the world. After I ran away, I dedicated my life to raising my kids. I was far from perfect, but I’m happy to say they’re doing very well. I have four grandchildren now, and they live close enough that I can visit them. I wish I had known that back then. Now that my kids are grown and don’t need me the way they did when they were little, I’m free to dedicate my life to service. I can do it freely, without running away, and I’m really glad about that.

Later I took a weekend Open Space training from Lisa Heft in California, offered by donation, which was the only way I could have gone. My bus was late, but I still learned so much, and I met Raines Cohen, a wonderful networker.

I’ve dreamed ever since of using Open Space to bring people together. I’ve already seen it work: I used Open Space principles to create Community: Connect! gatherings, which have been very successful. Now, through the Animal Earth Alliance’s Think Tanks, that dream is growing.

Looking back, I see grace everywhere: a church sign, a ride that appeared, a farmer who said yes, and a circle of strangers who showed me a new way to gather. “Go in peace, I am with you.” He was.

If you’re in a dark place right now, please reach out. In the U.S., you can call or text 988 to reach the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline, any time.

Patricia Mikkelson brought her story, her memories and her lifelong love of Open Space. Claude.ai, an AI assistant made by Anthropic, helped write it.