As you (should) know by now, I am very candid in my messages to my readers. Being at a stage in life where I no longer feel the need to be who or what I am not, I write things the way they are. Today, I sat in the waiting room of a local food pantry – no longer concerned with what anyone else thought. After all, they're there too. Today was interesting. Hard times have hit many of us in ways we never expected. And I began to think of two words a new friend said to me the other day; “Love Is.” We are in a world of overly processed hatred and envy; prejudice and jealousy. So, I thought about those two words.
Love is the gentle rain soothing the parched yellow corn in the late August sun.
Love is the grape throbbing in the heat of the afternoon as it clings to the vine that gives it life. And the grape, in turn, will give life to others.
Love is the gift of forgiveness, even when we admit we can never forget.
Love is the strength and lessons we learn from that painful incident we can never forget.
Love is the gift of patience – you give to yourself.
Love is the gift of forgiveness – you give to yourself.
Love is the baby sparrow, who prances proudly before me with his spike “hairdo,” showing me that he can walk. Love is also the watchful eyes of his parents, confident he can fly – After all, he did not fall from that nest.
Love is the first time I saw his smile, and knew God's gift was before me.
Love is the water that flows when the faucet is turned on, when you thought you didn't have a dime to pay for it. Love is the simple mercies that made it possible.
Love is the gift of the elderly, whose wisdom and experience brought us here.
Love is the one who hears your cry in the dark, and comes to your aid.
Love is the one who hears not your cry in the dark, but comes to your aid anyway.
Love is his voice, soothing and comforting when you feel life and love have left you forever.
Love is she who stops to comfort and shelter a wounded animal.
Love is he who makes room in his life to comfort and shelter a child with a wounded heart.
Love is acceptance.
Love is diversity
Love does not judge or assume the virtue of the diverse souls our Creator placed on this earth.
Love is the melody of a language unknown to you that speaks of peace and freedom and the chance to live and work with dignity and pride.
Love is he or she who is strong enough to embrace those different from themselves, and learn to exist globally in unity.
Love is not being so ignorant to believe what they read or hear about others – without knowing FACTS.
Love is not being so shallow to spread False Evidence Appearing Real (FEAR) because they were so ignorant to believe what they read or hear about others – without knowing FACTS.
Love is a tomato, right off of your own vine.
Love is knowing your neighbor's name, and knowing you can count on them to help you when you are alone.
Love is knowing that even if they cannot or will not help you when you are alone, that you will be there for them just the same.
Love is the light at end of your street after a long journey.
Love is a cup of tea in a worn, chipped mug with an old friend.
Love is a warm loaf of bread you've baked for a new friend.
Love is his laughter, when your heart is aching.
Love is a three-legged dog who wins the race, because he's too grateful for the three he has to be worried about the one he lost.
Love is knowing your soul mate was there all along.
Love is being humble enough to put aside your pride and ask for the help you need.
Love is giving it back when you are able.
Love is the effervescent memory of a mother, father or grandparent.
Love is their surprising visits to us in the night in the form of a dream.
Love is taking a fish and feeding yourself; or, add some bread crumbs, and feed your entire family.
Love is sharing your talents with the world.
Love is that strange, unidentifiable scent – like powdery flowers, or a faint perfume from ages past. This fragrance lasts a brief second and then it is gone... I am told it is the scent of an angel, a lost loved one, or the Holy Spirit.
Love is knowing we happen to love the same dish.
Love is the choice collection of friends who will listen to your pain while silently bearing their own.
Love is strong coffee and a handwritten letter.
Love is that 50 year old rose bush that still blooms humbly in spite of your neglect.
Love is realizing that it's never too late – for anything.
Love is a welcomed phone call – even at 5 A.M.; and,
Love is wishing you had thought of calling him first.
by Stacey Torres
Originally Published in The Courier-Times, New Castle, IN 8/30/2015