"On Love and Being Blessed"

The pressure washing job was what I call a hands-and-knees kind of job, not because I was on my hands and knees, but because it was mindless, one conducive for thought.  Standing, holding a spray gun for two hours while cleaning a driveway with a power washer falls in that category.  There is no place to go but to deal with the task at hand.  

Stating my mind can be empty and filled at the same time seems impossible, but that is how it was.  I wasn’t focused on a particular issue, yet the events of recent days floated through, and I mentally reached out to examine various aspects of them:  a “thumbs-up” from a 15-year-old grandgirl after reading my last post about her homecoming invitation; a priceless communication from one who is like a second son; lunch with several former high school classmates, some who I had not seen since graduation over 50 years ago, a mini-reunion of sorts; an invitation to visit sunny Southern California ­for a weekend this winter and escape the gray fog of the Willamette Valley; old friendships, standing the test of time--new ones forming, growing, and developing.­ 

The weather was wonderful, sunny and warm, an Indian Summer kind of day in early fall.  I had sealed the fitting in the spray gun with that stretchy tape plumbers use, so the spray was directed toward the cement instead of my legs.  I found myself feeling filled and fulfilled, deep within. The thoughts wandered, going back in time—a long ways back. 

Life in my 20’s was a difficult period of time, one I describe as “a withdrawal from society.”  Depression has that effect on a person.  The depression was in part due to a search for something more in life, a resultant malcontent.  While it sounds quite grandiose and even pompous, it wasn’t—I simply wanted to know the meaning of life, why I had been born, why I was created.  My thinking was if I was putting in the time,  I wanted to make it count, have value; I wanted to know that my being, my existence mattered.  Though that may seem egocentric, narcissistic, the quest was to find purpose, and I was driven in that quest.

A friendship developed with another young woman, a friendship that exists to this day, although we are no longer young.  As we talked, I shared with her the doubt that drove me, the knowledge that God did not love me.  She was not an atheist; an atheist does not believe in the existence of God.  She knew He did not exist.  She also knew if He did exist, He would be a God of love. I knew there was a God, but could not be persuaded of His love for me. We came from two completely different camps, and neither of us could be convinced otherwise.   

For those of you who parent you know how impossible it is to prove your love to a child who doubts it.  No matter what you say or do, the efforts are futile.  And that is how it was with me.  I kept demanding of God, requiring proof that I was loved. I never received the evidence to satisfy. 

The driveway was covered with a lot of moss needing to be cleaned off, so there was plenty of time to think.  Doubt has been replaced by the surety of His love for me.  When and how did that change take place within me?  I cannot tell you; I do not know.

Love IS.  The force of it, the power, the strength, and the life of it stands.  It is not a scientific problem, a hypothesis, needing a series of experiments or tests to verify its validity. God is love.  That I now know.

The thought came from deep within, settling in the substance of my mind.  It was not like a leaf in the wind which whips by, then disappears, but rather, a statement, a fact.  When I am helping the grandgirls with homework, preparing for a test or reviewing math facts, I often tell them, “Answer me with a period not a question mark.”  That is what this was—a period:  “I am blessed.”

blessed:  having divine aid or protection or other blessing
blessing:  some kind of divine or supernatural aid

I am one who is most reticent when it comes to applying that word or any others with a spiritual connotation to myself and my life.  I spent much of my life saying words, with no substance and nothing to back them up.  “Words are cheap,” and I was the poster child bearing that out. 

However, that description has planted itself deep within me, and I find myself viewing my life through that lens, that of being blessed.  I continue to process it, but you’ll not find me, as many in the public eye do, standing on a podium making that statement.  Instead, it is permeating my being, becoming a part of me. 

My life, my existence is rich, and it is full—of life, relationship with my Father, of family and friends. 

And yes, my friend and I are now on common ground.  We are in agreement that there is a God, and He does love.  I am blessed. 

"Seek and you shall find."