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Sunday, December 11, 2011

Love As I Remember It




The earliest memory of love was not of a person, or a way, or a particular method. Love transcended all that. It made us safe and strangely capable of life, even if for one moment.


Love, as we remember it, dug down deep into its Source, seemed back then to have existed eternally—we never knew of a time it wasn’t fundamental to our being; to life itself. Even if by abuse or neglect we knew love—by its absence.


Love has no face, no common technique, and certainly no rules. But, love is.


Love characterises life, for Love is better than life (Psalm 63:3) and life without love has neither meaning nor sense.


The Personal Observance of Love


When I recall love, even beyond specific memory, I know it to be friendly—it commonly never fails and it has no end so far as peaceable relations are concerned (1 Corinthians 13:8).


Love found its way into my psyche through God in my heart; the Divine Being purposed and pressed into the mind of every human being given to a moment’s interested surrender.


Yes, even beyond abuse and neglect, as they are commonly or uncommonly experienced, love makes its way known through absence or presence; yet, it—by our need of it—is always there.


As I would sit dreamily as a child, playing with my imaginary friends, love would be the first of my cohort.


As I would walk to school, somehow now dimmed from present memory, love would hold my hand, whether I skipped in joy or slunk along in self-absorption.


In those embarrassing times of my childhood, and indeed those today, love stands there defiantly assisting me to pickup the pieces.


It filled me with euphoria when fortune favoured me in bravery. She shielded me from fear, giving me enough hope to get through that near-and-dear present challenge.


Love carries us through the entire line of experience; the complete string of first situation to last—all in continuous series; even in the splendour of sleep.


She advised me that wisdom was the way when I felt envious and given to rudeness, though I didn’t always listen to her. But, to refuse Love’s hand is to hate oneself in the moment, though we know it not because we are deceived in pride.


Love, oh Love: where would I be without you?


***


Love was, and is, and will be, my ally—mine and yours. Love is eternal; it proves and proclaims God.


© 2011 S. J. Wickham.

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