I saw this posted the other day and at first, I knew that I'd modify the first paragraph--Actions are terrible, not people...and maybe I'd even say that "I know that there is evil out there..." And then I moved on to paragraph two and it made me chuckle.
I saw it AFTER I’d been walking down Spring Garden Road and noticed a man—I’ll guess in his 70s—heading toward me. He was in khakis, a button-down and tie, and a glorious Panama hat/straw fedora that he clearly enjoyed wearing. He had bounce in his step and light surrounding him. I couldn’t help but begin to grin. He saw me notice and started to smile in return. He got closer and I told him— You look *fabulous* in that hat! His grin got bigger and he simply said “Well, thank you very much!” And we both kept going.
This was the same day that I’d been through the Public Gardens to see the dahlias in their last glory for the season. The light was full…not piercing, not hazy, just pure and clear and, well, luminous. Because of that, the colours of the flowers stood out and the petals seemed to tighten up their exquisitely mathematical arrangements, proudly posturing to all who would wander by.
It was the same day I noticed a random rainbow coloured line in the middle of a patch of sidewalk and had a bird hanging out and watching me about three inches away from my notebook and the pen in my hand while I wrote about the fact that there was a bird about three inches from my notebook and the pen in my hand.
That image was posted on the Facebook page for vocations that is maintained by one of my sisters in the province. It garnered many, many, likes and a whole lot of shares. And, it received a comment that stood out: “You should drastically reconsider your social media posts. A return to our Lord would be great, IMHO.”
I wondered, if it had been that person wearing the hat when the compliment had been paid and received freely, in peace and with joy, would the response have been the same? If that person had a chance to sit with friends at a meal, talk about what was happening and where they were going, what was happening in their hearts, and the craziness of the world, would the response have been the same? If they’d beheld a beautiful gesture, a wonder of creation; if they’d laughed or cried and had someone who listened, who understood... Would the presence of a God who is love, the presence of Jesus who was in the midst of it all, lived the chaos and the beauty and the fullness of humanity twined with complete divinity... have been apparent to them?
In the end, I thought about what I knew of love. How wide it is and how free. How inviting and how encompassing. The sweep of the skies and the depths of the seas do not compare, and yet, when I stare at the heavens or beyond the point where the harbour becomes open ocean, I can not but think of that love and feel no need to return to anything—instead the call is to go, to go, to go, to go...in Love, and with Love, and for Love, and to Love.