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Love Lives Here

Look no further, dear traveler

By LynPublished 3 years ago 3 min read
One of many instances where existence has shown me that I am indeed enough.

So, here we are again. It's my honor to share this moment with you, my friend. Currently I'm sitting on my floor thanking my heart for it's continuous work and remembering an Easter of my childhood. Do I remember the year of this happened? No, however it's the content that matters here.

From what I can recall, Easter this year was introduced by a warm breeze and a blue sky that ushered the sun with poise (The poise being, as per usual, of course.) Our neighbor directly across the street asked if my mom and I were open to attending a sermon. She was, and I'm sure still is, a plump and faithful lady. Walking by the path of the biblical Christ, and with pride it walks with her. Being the granddaughter of a preacher - the church, religious trauma, and bible studies were not fundamental factors of my upbringing. Before I continue - I'm sorry if you were a victim of religious attacks, or any trauma brought by a force that was masked as love. You didn't deserve it, but I'm proud of you for persevering and I admire your strength.

We agreed to attend, who would deny a celebration of rebirth. The church wasn't too far from our neighborhood. A hop skip and a couple jumps away if you will. It wasn't a rich, or giant congregation, stained glass and metal pipe rails adding distinct character. On our way there I grew anxious, my mind racing with the thoughts of not fitting in. Heart pacing at the idea that I would be called out, and dragged for not claiming my space the pews. Eventually we find a spot among the pastel sea and the flapping of fans; there we sit and wait for the preacher to share the word. To my surprise, he starts this oration by pointing out the new faces. His eyes gazing, and when he saw a fresh face his hand would rise. Guiding the person to their feet, asking their name and then prompting the rest of us to greet them. A collective salutation was easy enough, I thought, all I needed to do was acknowledge and clap. At the time not knowing how impactful acknowledgement can be. Smile and wave boys, smile and wave. His eyes met mine, I rose and spoke my name. The church erupted and a sharp chill spread through my body like lightning, it was so intense I instantly teared up. Smiles my way resembling God itself. Even now, I find myself tearing up at the memory of it. Love lived there in that church and I was lucky enough to feel it. That building held no judgement of where I'd been, or any wrong I've done. To be met with that was unfamiliar, a bit uncomfortable, how could I deserve to be seen through divine love? Ha!

I've come to realize addressing one's presence is important. People, you, and I - deserve to be met where we are without condemnation or condonement. External opinions aren't be sought in order to validate our existence, but damn does it feel good to be seen. To be seen through a lens of love and forgiveness, to be held with and to be kissed by grace.

For me God isn't some dude in the sky dictating what is and isn't a sin. God just is. It's the exchange of energy between your fellow human and animal, plant, or element. It's the sweetness of fruit, the caress of bushes on hikes, the songs of birds as the sun rises, the creativity we hold, a hug from a loved one, the pages of a book, the breath that fills my lungs, giving a compliment, giving and receiving gifts, the cradling of water when I lay in a bath, the sound of wind. Everyday I find more ways that God lives through life. Through love, pain, grief, appreciation, and acceptance. The capacity of duality we hold gives us the opportunity to display the many faces of this existence.

You are a miracle, a gift straight from the creator itself. Every moment is a chance for Spirit to experience life - and through us! It's a magical thing to be able to recognize and utilize the power we hold within us. How lucky are we to be all we ever need to be!?!

lovehumanity

About the Creator

Lyn

Perhaps I have a fear of being forgotten, or maybe it's the subconscious cries of my ancestors who couldn't speak for themselves. Either way, I can't afford to make the shadows my home.

May peace be with you, fellow traveler.

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