Sometimes Love Picks up a Rock

Sometimes Love picks up a rock, staggers with it to a structure that is being raised, carefully places it in the correct spot, walks back to the quarry for another boulder to repeat the whole scenario again and again. …And that is how a home is built to shelter from the storms.


Sometimes Love digs a hole, a deep and dangerous chore that requires days and days of patient effort until the sweet water rushes up. …And that is how an endless thirst is quenched.

Sometimes Love lifts the burden off a fellow traveler’s pack, shoulders it through rocky mountain passes with blisters rubbing raw and breath failing under extra weight in the thin air. …And that is how the longed-for vista opens up for not just one but two.

Sometimes Love plants a garden, seedlings placed in rows upon rows, freeing the place of noxious weeds, waiting for the sunshine and rain in their course. …And that is how the small and larger places are nurtured with goodness.


Sometimes Love wields a scalpel, cutting cleanly, carefully, where rampant growth swells wrong. …And that is how a cancer is removed.

Sometimes Love weaves a blanket, bright threads running back and forth in patient patterns across the darker weft. …And that is how the cold and lonely world gets wrapped in warmth.

Sometimes Love makes music, clear and full of light, winging out through the listening atmosphere with no particular destination, but just for joy of singing. …And that is how the jubilance of love spreads through the solitary darkness.

Sometimes Love walks alongside, pledging in a blaze of selfless abandonment to live in all these ways for the sake of another. …And that is how Love gets to live out its days.

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