Dearly Beloved, Grace and Peace to you.
That without a word you sat with me in grief, me wounded and alone, robbed beyond grasping, you silent and present, beyond grasping— this was love.
That you did not save me but accompanied me,
that when I fell apart, confident in the whole you did not try to glue back the pieces,
that you did not protect me from my pain, my heart’s crucial kneading, did not root around in the ashes looking for blame,
that you resisted the temptation of explanation, the ruse of a plan, some clever dramatic device as if the click of some little metal piece into place could dismiss what was happening in my heart,
that you set me no timetable, that you planted no fence beyond the strong horse of my anguish,
that you withheld your dexterous knowhow, so readily shouldered the weight, accepted the nails of powerlessness, dared the nothingness empty-handed,
that you were still there as the petals fell, patient for the rolling away of the stone—
this is how you loved me, helpless, raw and given. This is how you love me still, since love that has passed through death will never die again.
Deep Blessings, Pastor Steve
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