Love

I have a little plaque that says, "Once in a while, right in the middle of an ordinary life, love comes along and brings you a fairy tale." I used to think that was true, but not anymore.

Love, like light, is not something you can easily contain. It seeps into dark crevices, falls guilelessly in random places, and has an intangible warmth all its own.

Defining love, trying to force it into some easily recognizable, finite shape, only denies you the experiences that fall everywhere else.

Instead, it is better to become a window, whatever sort of window you are, picture window, transom, double hung, Gothic, garden or any of a million other sorts. You may have one pane, or twenty and they could be square, round, or diamond, but the point is they all let love shine through them.

When your eye falls on a precious face or object, your ears hear a beloved sound, and your heart is warmed by the beauty and grace of love perceived clearly and freely, you are blessed. Even your nose is captivated by the beauty of nostalgic odors, foods, warm mornings, ocean beaches, perfumes and after shaves, wet babies and dirty dogs.

Recognizing love in all its forms probably exceeds a lifetime, but it will be a multi-dimensional journey worth the effort.