I give thanks to my God at every remembrance of you,
praying always with joy in my every prayer for all of you...-Philippians 1:3-4
The more I come to think about my life as it is and where it is going, I cannot escape the past. The past is an essential piece to each person and I am no exception. Our collective pasts teach us always about how the world works and who people are.
I left Colorado with the mindset that Alaska is a temporary location for me. And in many ways, it is still a temporary location. However, what I had not expected was to find a place that could feel like home. Along with this home, has come a community that made it a mission to proclaim the kingdom of God and to seek it above all else. Such a goal has left me contemplative of whether I am even worthy of such a group of friends. The short answer is no, but worthiness is not necessarily a criterion for acceptance. This is especially true in Christianity.
When I sat down to consider a new entry for the blog, the daily reading did not inspire me in such a way as to bring reflection but the letter to the Philippians has never failed to reach me. I often resonate with the gospel of the day but today I resonate with St Paul. While intimacy has been a particular struggle for me, I cannot say that I have not experienced the soul wrenching, years-in-the-making, type of love that often typifies the deep, committed, been together forever, relationship usually resulting in marriage. I can say that I have experienced this once. It is still a weird sentiment for me, even now, after all these years. The feeling is a slight pull of the heart but not one that interferes with my life. But without that love, I would not know love. I would remain, as Pope John Paul II described, "a being incomprehensible to himself" (Redemptor Hominis). And it resulted with the good words of St Paul: "I give thanks to God at every remembrance of you, praying always with joy in my every prayer for ... you." Because truly loving for once, if only one up until now, has allowed me a far greater appreciate of faith, love, and God.
Nicholas Sparks often has a way with romantic words. But I think that when it comes to a first love (particularly one that does not work out [as the imminent quote comes from and hints to]) the book/movie, The Best of Me, expresses a uniquely beautiful idea. The character, Dawson, says in a letter that is read after he dies, "I love who I am when I'm with you, Amanda. You are my dearest friend, my deepest love. You are the very best of me."
In order to have some continuity with the season of Lent, I would like to invite a brief reflection upon the tenets of Lent. Lent asks us to consider, and practice, prayer, fasting and almsgiving. These are intimately related to the evangelical counsels of poverty, chastity and obedience. They are the fruit of faith, hope, and love. Lenten love is a beautiful love. It points towards the sacrifice, redemption, and salvation in the Passion, Death and Resurrection of the Lord.
Authentically amorous or familial relationships should not be different and should have some sort of Lenten character to them. They should involve some sort of service and support to the other. It should will the good of the other. And in success or failure, it should continue to be loving. But there is a beauty in my own memories of love. I thank God for it and pray for joy for you. So if it works out in the end or not, there should always be joy in love. And we should never stop praying for each other.
I don't know if I seek the one as Dawson does in Nicholas Sparks' The Best of Me. I wonder if there is a 'dearest friend, a deepest love' who is not the beloved spouse. Perhaps genuine love is its own unique character that can only exist between two distinct people. If family is our first experience of love, then it would lead me to speculate that love can have an infinite number of identities, versions, types. My love for my sister, Jennifer, is vastly different from my love for my sister, Teresa. It is not deeper, lesser or greater, but it is very different.
So for now, I can readily, and heartily accept that "I love who I am when I'm with you... You are my dearest friend, my deepest love. You are the very best of me."
praying always with joy in my every prayer for all of you...-Philippians 1:3-4
The more I come to think about my life as it is and where it is going, I cannot escape the past. The past is an essential piece to each person and I am no exception. Our collective pasts teach us always about how the world works and who people are.
I left Colorado with the mindset that Alaska is a temporary location for me. And in many ways, it is still a temporary location. However, what I had not expected was to find a place that could feel like home. Along with this home, has come a community that made it a mission to proclaim the kingdom of God and to seek it above all else. Such a goal has left me contemplative of whether I am even worthy of such a group of friends. The short answer is no, but worthiness is not necessarily a criterion for acceptance. This is especially true in Christianity.
When I sat down to consider a new entry for the blog, the daily reading did not inspire me in such a way as to bring reflection but the letter to the Philippians has never failed to reach me. I often resonate with the gospel of the day but today I resonate with St Paul. While intimacy has been a particular struggle for me, I cannot say that I have not experienced the soul wrenching, years-in-the-making, type of love that often typifies the deep, committed, been together forever, relationship usually resulting in marriage. I can say that I have experienced this once. It is still a weird sentiment for me, even now, after all these years. The feeling is a slight pull of the heart but not one that interferes with my life. But without that love, I would not know love. I would remain, as Pope John Paul II described, "a being incomprehensible to himself" (Redemptor Hominis). And it resulted with the good words of St Paul: "I give thanks to God at every remembrance of you, praying always with joy in my every prayer for ... you." Because truly loving for once, if only one up until now, has allowed me a far greater appreciate of faith, love, and God.
Nicholas Sparks often has a way with romantic words. But I think that when it comes to a first love (particularly one that does not work out [as the imminent quote comes from and hints to]) the book/movie, The Best of Me, expresses a uniquely beautiful idea. The character, Dawson, says in a letter that is read after he dies, "I love who I am when I'm with you, Amanda. You are my dearest friend, my deepest love. You are the very best of me."
In order to have some continuity with the season of Lent, I would like to invite a brief reflection upon the tenets of Lent. Lent asks us to consider, and practice, prayer, fasting and almsgiving. These are intimately related to the evangelical counsels of poverty, chastity and obedience. They are the fruit of faith, hope, and love. Lenten love is a beautiful love. It points towards the sacrifice, redemption, and salvation in the Passion, Death and Resurrection of the Lord.
Authentically amorous or familial relationships should not be different and should have some sort of Lenten character to them. They should involve some sort of service and support to the other. It should will the good of the other. And in success or failure, it should continue to be loving. But there is a beauty in my own memories of love. I thank God for it and pray for joy for you. So if it works out in the end or not, there should always be joy in love. And we should never stop praying for each other.
I don't know if I seek the one as Dawson does in Nicholas Sparks' The Best of Me. I wonder if there is a 'dearest friend, a deepest love' who is not the beloved spouse. Perhaps genuine love is its own unique character that can only exist between two distinct people. If family is our first experience of love, then it would lead me to speculate that love can have an infinite number of identities, versions, types. My love for my sister, Jennifer, is vastly different from my love for my sister, Teresa. It is not deeper, lesser or greater, but it is very different.
So for now, I can readily, and heartily accept that "I love who I am when I'm with you... You are my dearest friend, my deepest love. You are the very best of me."
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