Dark, foreboding starless nights where I wander in my mind alone and afraid from the relative safety of my own bed trap me in the terror of the unknown, the unforgiven, the unloved. And as I writhe in the agonized horror of that deepest fear, the place I hide even from myself, the place that naming somehow gives sway over me, I whisper now to you: am I worthy of love at all?
Oh, the things I have witnessed and not raised my hand to stop, the words I have used to shred others, the times I could have loved but chose not to do so. How different would I like to have lived my life given a second chance. But would I really? Probably not, because, as I am well aware, our experiences make us who we are.
If I take the Bible at face value, I am loved simply because I was created for that purpose. You have no way to compare how much I soooo want to believe that. But then shame whispers into my ear – shame actually looks a lot like Jiminy Cricket -that I have done nothing in my life to earn love. In fact, if you look at my track record, it’d be awfully easy to determine that I, of all people, deserve to have love turn its back on me. Two divorces, other broken relationships – nope, not a whole lot recommending me for that L-O-V-E, no matter how much I desire it. And, if I’m honest, completely honest, I want that love so very much, so much more than anything else I can even imagine. I want God’s love so desperately, unreservedly, with absolutely astoundingly abundance. I also want it’s reflection of Jesus’ love for us in its Earthly form: I want a marriage that works, but how can I imagine that I would ever deserve another chance at that?
Then a thought teases the edges of my conscience: is love ever about deserving? Love is a gift given freely, willingly, unreservedly. Nope, nothing there about deserving. Love is a choice and a verb. Love is about compassion, mercy, and hope. Surprisingly, sometimes I need to be reminded of this seemingly intuitive knowledge.
I have a friend from childhood who teaches second-grade in Los Angeles. He’s gentle, kind, and amazing, and he’s trying to instill those traits in his students. Yesterday, I opened my mailbox and found a lovely gift waiting inside. There, offering an opportunity to fill my heart with joy, sat an enormous white envelope stuffed full of hand-made get-well Valentine cards from his kids. The pink construction paper hearts with flowers or smiles or balloons drawn on them told me how sorry they were that I was sick and asked me why I had to be sick, why I couldn’t be part of their class, when I was coming to see them, what I thought of their cards. But what they did for me, was raise my heart and my soul to remember that you take love where you find it. That God sends love into your life right where you need it, right when you need it. In essence those second graders reminded me of who I really am – God’s child – and as such I am infinitely deserving of love, compassion, forgiveness, and hope. And maybe, just maybe, my own family someday.
God bless those Los Angeles second graders. God bless my friend’s gentle heart, and bless God for knowing exactly how to remind me that I am loved beyond measure on this Valentine’s Day.
The Unexpected Life 