Touch the Feet


In 1974 we were hippies - world travellers, roaming about in the "mystical" Far East. Straying off the normal path of drugs and meditation, we found ourselves in an orphanage looking after one hundred children. Our self-absorbed happy-hippy lives were turned upside down as we walked into a realm of life we had never dared to imagine - the realm of God.


It was great, nearly unbelievable discovery. we found no hidden path to paradise, no steep climb up a spiritual mountain to attain immortality. There was just "God"... and one hundred children. One hundred grubby hands and feet and a guilty conscience proved to be a recipe for revelation - the revelation of a God who taught us how to touch the dirty, dusty feet.

Tragedy during my teenage years had the potential to destroy my future, and that process had begun. India became a "last resort" in a search to find truth - a search for God. The question is then asked (usually with sceptical undertones), "...and did you find God?" A positive reply is generally not expected, for knowing God is an arrogant claim! Would the mystical quest of seeking God be more attractive, more accepatable and more humble if God remained unfound?


The story, my own story, told in Touch the Feet, ends at a beginning, for more than thirty years have passed since my husband and I first arrived in India and established a children's home which has been functioning for nearly the same amount of time. The inspiration for the songs came from the poor, the outcasts, and the many dirty little feet that touched our lives.



©  April 2008

Frieda McRae