I must confess that being the victim of a violent crime has ruined me for small talk. I seem drawn only to the core and bark of things. When younger, it came through like fire and scared off others. But with the years, it has thinned into light and others come. I am not alone in this. It’s how we learn to love each other. Our fires don’t lessen, but refine and transform over time into a light we can’t resist. I’ve grown in the light of so many. All of us suns that don’t know we’re shining. As the fire we carry dies down, the light we’re left with spills over our darknesses. We stand in awe, on the edge of God’s shimmer in the smallest crack, till all that’s left is what’s essential. I feel the delicate web, certain that we knew this in the beginning. We are here to love the light out of each other. It’s not something we can plan or build, only ready ourselves for. As Naomi Nye reminds us: "Lives unlike mine, you save me. I would grow so tired were it not for you." —Naomi Shihab Nye
Posted on: Fri, 07 Jun 2013 23:44:49 +0000
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