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
