There is nothing that love can't endure. It stretches thin, it swells to fill...it absorbs all.
I have been thinking about the character of love today. Just what does it mean to me? What does it do for me? To me? In spite of my shortfalls?
Love is like a sponge to me. It's not really useful, unless it is absorbing, and being used to capacity.
Love, like a sponge, is an instrument to clear things up. It holds no limit, as it can be rung out, over and over again. Very little will cause it to crumble and lose its absorbancy, for it by nature, is a cleanser. It doesn't lose effectiveness with different spills...it consistently does its job, and clarifies.
If you have read even a couple of my posts, you will know that I am wading through the loss of someone irreplaceable. With this loss, I have for some reason felt a semblance of responsibility for the hearts of the grieving. It's a hard one to explain. Many times, and never moreso than in the last few weeks have I wanted to grab that sponge, and somehow sop up this horrendous, murky dark puddle of dispair. My heart aches with each beat, the loss scratches at my soul, preventing the opportunity for a scar to develop. My efforts to absorb grief, both my own, and others, has stretched me beyond what I thought I was ever capable of, or desirous of. With much discomfort and an unruly, restless soul...I have come to a conclusion:
We are qualified for the mission when love is the reason we chose to participate.
I loved Michael. I still do. Truthfully, I always will. Because I loved him, I continue on with what he thought was important. I absorb the grief of others, wring it out with compassion and understanding...and head back toward the swirling ocean of heartache...determined, to start all over again. I do this, because he did it for me. His way of loving me, of being that sponge...was to be an unfailing, intent listener. He carried my secrets, and I his. Now I CHOOSE to absorb the details of each person I come across...the beautiful, the hideous, the resplendent...all in a quest for understanding, both of myself, and that of the person sharing with me.
If you seek the character of love, might I leave you with a clear picture of its nature:
“Love is patient; love is kind and envies no one. Love is never boastful, nor conceited, nor rude; never selfish, never quick to take offense. There is nothing love cannot face; there is no limit to its faith, its hope, and endurance. In a word, there are three things that last forever: faith, hope, and love; but the greatest of them all is love.”
May we strive to love beyond what is merely acceptable, to that which is extraordinary and pure. May we come alongside the broken hearted, the weak and the lost and gently take their hand, or put an arm of mercy around them. May we do it not for ourselves, or our own recognition, but rather, to bring the glow of grace into a life that has burned low the wick of hope.
Michael...I do it for you.