What Happens When Love Becomes Tangible: Lessons from a Grandmother’s Funeral
Have you felt love? Do you know her warm touch and her warm embrace? The nourishment you feel when it fills your belly? There is no love like Divine Love.
Have you felt love? Do you know her warm touch and her warm embrace? The nourishment you feel when it fills your belly? There is no love like Divine Love.
There’s no need to let go of the past or the future because I hold it all now. The DNA of my ancestors still course within me. Closer to me than I am to myself. In this moment, my future is made.
God is love — and God created us in love, by love, for love. Compare me to love and love alone! Love doesn’t compete or compare, she simply EXISTS.
Don’t keep love hidden like you do the numbers of dollars in your bank account. No! Share love like immigrants share food, trees share oxygen, and the sun shares her rays. ♡
Love is in the willingness. It’s the courage that says, ‘I can do this thing I’ve never done before.’ Love is in the readiness. It’s the courage that says, ‘I can learn the thing I’ve never been taught.’
Uncle Ralph died at 67—retirement age. I used to think, ‘I can’t wait to move abroad when I retire.’ Now I know: I can’t afford to wait to live. I don’t want anyone to learn who I am at my funeral. I want to be known now.”
I’m leaving the U.S. Not to flee, but to free. Freedom isn’t free. It’s costing me something—the familiar, the known.
The universe—love itself!—really is conspiring in your ways that exceed your wildest everything. Let it! Don’t limit love. Don’t limit opportunities. Let be what is. Let come what may. Call the good forth. Call the beautiful and patient and kind. Call love to surround you and invade you. May love overwhelm you so that even the most simple, most mundane becomes profound.
Love, thank You that as I am is precisely enough because I am who You– the God of I AM THAT I AM!– made us to be. Help us remember our enoughness when the world would deceive us or have us forget.
I woke up, drifting in and out of sleep. Between land of the living and land of the divine. And in my comings and goings, lines of prose wrote themselves.