Love. Such mystery. Layers of richness moving and shifting to reveal that which escapes those who seek. Moments where my heart free falls without warning into the realms of Rumi’s musings. Allowing the sandy shores of old loss and pain to move aside as some eternal rhythm beckons for deeper connection of heaven and earth. And, while love is good and vital in its early flight, it is the bonding through time and the increased ability to relate in authentically rich and mature ways that is pure gold set against fire lit skies. Refining our own abilities to know our shortcomings, vulnerabilities and wounding, and to open anyway and say ‘Yes! I choose to meet you in the spaces that scare me. Yes, I choose life!” To move from the grief of great loss and make a choice to stand within the eye of the threatening storm we call life, and choose love and the bonded quality of something more, though we have learned its heart wrenching vanishing act through God’s call again and again. Have mercy on us, we shout with shaking fist toward Heaven! And yet, with no reply we turn, and somehow carefully choose to tiptoe and then fall in life’s smallest mysterious moments, and to darlingly fall head over heels with the fullness of life and her increasingly mysterious ways.
