As the Father loves me, so I also love you.”
Poets, artists, writers, crooners and lovers have tried time and again throughout the ages to describe love. Everyman has done her best. Each of us speaks from our own intimate experiences of something we call love. We proclaim love’s attributes: “Love is patient, love is kind…rejoices with the truth”. (Paul’s letter to the Corinthians) Another describes the attitudes of love: “I love thee freely…I love thee purely…I love thee with passion”. (Elizabeth Barrett Browning). Another considers what love is not: “… not envy…boast(ful)… proud…self-seeking…keeps no record of wrongs…”. (Paul’s letter to the Corinthians). Elizabeth Barrett Browning tries to count the ways, “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.” (Sonnets from the Portuguese 43)
In the depths of our collective hearts there is something - an emotion, an experience, a pull, a drive, an invitation, a fullness, an emptiness – something beyond any other human experience. Unfathomable and ineffable. Yet, we continually strive to articulate poetically and academically love’s essence; to capture in muted tones and graceful line love’s fragility; to remember in our tissues love’s comfort and strength; to relive in the tremble love’s challenge; to delve love’s mystery. At times I forget the words to love’s song, but my heart never forgets love’s melody. I am ever held in Love and by Love.
In love, I kiss and caress, I hold you – tender vulnerable infant. In Love, I stand with, I hold you – smelly, dirty, homeless wretch. In love, I rescue you, I hold you – tear streaked frightened friend. In love, I honor you, I hold you – petrified convict. In love, I enjoy you, I hold you – lovely lady. In love, I reach out to you, I hold you – abused and abandoned. In love, I play with you, I hold you – orphan child. In love, I support you, I hold you – wife and mother. I befriend you, I hold you – wondering refugee. I cloth you, I hold you – naked stranger. I rejoice in you, I hold you – healthy and strong. In love, I anoint you, I hold you – dying.
I love you. I hold you.
In our mutual emptiness may I hold you? Will you hold me? In our mutual joy, may I hold you? Will you hold me? May I love you? Will you love me?
“As the Father (holds) me, (may) I also love (hold) you.”
Joan Blandin Howard
After working and teaching at Creighton for many years, I am officially retired, but hardly so. Having 5 adult children, in-laws, and 11 grandchildren I keep pretty busy! My husband and I spend hours in our garden planting, pruning, dead-heading and of course weeding and mowing! We spend even more time sitting in our garden, delighting in its beauty. The beauty overwhelms me and invities me into a space of en-Joy-ment and gratitude to the Creator and Artist of all. I have much for which to be grateful. I also like to travel, read, write and make art. My ministry of spiritual direction and silent retreats continues.
I count my blessings. You among them.
Initially I thought I was writing for myself. I use the readings as a source of personal prayer. I thoroughly enjoy the time I spend in prayer, study and preparation. The writing seems to be a natural end product. The wonderful e-mails I receive tell me that I am not writing just for me and they reconfirm my faith in the presence of the Lord, who speaks all languages, permeates untold experiences, and surfaces in the most ordinary of daily delights and disturbing distractions. That the Lord would speak through me is a gift I had not anticipated.
I thank you, the reader and fellow pilgrim, for joining us on our journey. God bless us.
