Saturday, March 17, 2007

My dearest God,

A love rekindled. Is it possible that love ebbs and flows? Does it grow to some level, then plateaus? Can love die out, then bloom and blossom again miraculously, like the last flower of spring?

I frequently use the word "love". I love life. I love family. I love spoony fudge (my sister and mine's own concoction). I tell people I love them. Always have. I speak love to my children, my grandchildren, to friends and to my husband.

But do I mean it? And what do I really express when I offer love? Is it for someone else or do I say it for me? Is there some hook in love? Do I give love in order to receive it back?

I overuse the word I am sure. But what word can better be used to describe what I feel in the depths of my being?

Love is a connection. I have a link or I want to have a link to this one or that. I join myself to creation because creation's landscape births new love in me. Something comes to life inside me as I stand on a mountain top and view the earth from my tiny place. But not only from a high place, but also in low valleys of sorrow or pain, in refugee camps, garbage dumps where people are stranded, on the streets. I have entered each of these scenes.

I have visted refugee camps in Palestine. I have entered their homes, listened to their stories, seen pictures of their children who have died in the war of animosity and hate. I have stood in a garbage dump miles and miles long and have witnessed children living in cardboard boxes with their parents. I have seen their filthy bodies; yet, when they offered their small hand to me in friendship, I have taken that hand in mine. Love was sparked as I looked into the dark brown eyes of people who live half way around the world, strangers. But are they? Does love make us friends?

My heart has been broken by love, a love misplaced, love withheld or withdrawn, love rejected. An open, vulnerable, loving heart will always bear the scrapes and scratches of hurt, disappointment, sorrow, and grief. One who abides by the law of love will always show wear and tear. I think it is the nature of love to have its share of injury.

Is the old adage true, "Tis better to have loved and lost than to never have loved before"? )Something like that.) Does love initiate something within us that gives us courage to survive in a world where people murder one another? Does love, surging through our veins, give us cause to believe in ourselves and others? Is love the reason to live, to make a difference, to give ourselves away, at least some portion of ourselves?

Is love the junction to the rest of life and if it is, how do we teach it, in schools, churches, families and societies? How do we make love apparent to all, every person, none left out? How do we let love's tenacles wrap us up, making us feel wanted, giving us a place of belonging, purpose and value? I can only believe that love is meant for all of us, not just some of us.

I could write my life's story through the lens of love. I could share where love has brought light, joy, and comfort. And I could equally yield my stories of pain and darkness, where love has been absent or hidden.

Yesterday I found my X-815 paper, my master dissertation if you will. Written and presented on December 8, 1987, it is 21 pages, entitled "Christian Ministry: The Divine Embrace." This divine embrace is none other than the love of God.

I defended my seminary paper at Christmas time in 1987. At the same time of the celebration of Jesus' birth. Is this the love letter of God to the world, to each and every tiny soul ever born? Does this love make sense of all the chaos in the universe? Can this love reverse our craziness?

I included in my paper a quote by Grady Hardin, "Christian worship begins with God's love in Jesus Christ, through whom God offers life to us, and makes possible our offering of our lives in him." This is love, the divine embrace. This is a perpetual love, never ending. It extends to all. It is in all. Do we offer love to awaken this seed in one another?

I am a first born. I am told that I was much loved by many when I was birthed. Until my sister was born, I was the "apple" of the eye of my parents, aunts, uncles, friends of my folks. My grandparents watered the seed of love within me. I was nurtured, nourished by others around me. I knew love from the beginning. I have not been afraid to share it, even when my leadership style of love was criticized. Love has always been part of me, at the center, in my core.

I told my husband last night that I fell in love with him a long time ago and that I'm falling in love with him again. The light of our love is being rekindled, like stoking a fire that has grown cold. One tiny burning ember can make for a roaring blaze.

To those who have not known the kind of love I have experienced, I can only be a seed awakener. I have learned from the best. That dirty little hand in Garbage City in the heart of Cairo, Egypt taught me a world of lessons about love.

You are Love,
the essence,
the leaven
of life.
You are the
Divine Embrace.
Without you
love does not exist.
We cannot know its intention,
its passion,
its power
without you.
Love is always
being rekindled.
It never goes out.
We may not see it,
or know it,
but it is there for all.
God has put it there
in each of us.
Henri Nouwen,
one of the great theologians
of the last century
did his final work
with severely handicapped persons
before his death.
It was in their midst
that he discovered love
of the highest order.
The love within me
is not my own;
it is owned, possessed by God.
And I am enabled, empowered
to share it with others.
My seed has grown
into mighty oaks
of love.
May I always walk with you,
dearest God,
that others may know the love I share
is yours.

Eternally yours, Andrea