I am being loved (2). You. Your Power. A Christface


[1.5 minute read]

My love letter to you (IV)—the many who have touched me so deeply lately…

“If I turned to face my Lover, I most often wouldn’t sense a face, but outstretched arms, meekly calling. Inviting. Longing.”

[— I am being loved (1)]

Sometimes when I am being loved by God, there IS a face.
It is yours.

Sometimes, there are mortal arms enfolding me.
And they are yours.

Sometimes our eyes lock.
Sometimes they mist up.
Sometimes it is a still gaze that can’t be described.

Sometimes you lower your eyes. Sometimes, out of compassion for my vulnerability, you avert your eyes.

Sometimes you gaze into distance searching, for a moment, to feel my feelings, to summon empathy.

Sometimes you avert your gaze to pause in thought and await understanding. To know me more deeply. I am being loved by God. Yours is God’s face to me in the moment.

Sometimes you avert your eyes because — rarely, I hope –- I discomfit or sting you, reminding me that you too are exposing your frailty in trust, via soul-soul relating. It is important to me that you show hurt when I hurt you—a reminder to me that you are not God, but that we are being loved. Being loved by one another. In sacred intimacy, infinitely vulnerable.

Your signal that I have hurt you is a reminder of my power. My power for being loved, and my power for loving. Intimately exchanged power. You are equally powerful. Equally, and differently. Thankfully. I am being loved. You are being loved.

When you give me a hug, a call, or send me a message, I am being loved.

And when no one else is near me, and no one else is communicating with me, I am being loved. By the One who knows all of my weaknesses, failings, and the pain I have caused. Still, I am being loved. Still.
.
[More love letters]
.
Neil D. ~2019-11-13


Published by Neil Durso

Just another mid-lifer sharing the journey...

3 thoughts on “I am being loved (2). You. Your Power. A Christface

  1. It is so funny that you can sit around and make fun of someone, cutting them down a million times to yourself and others for not painting a single table when in all actuality you can find time to do these useless things but cannot touch a paint brush.

    Like

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