Ministerial Meandering

The tiers of love

It is different for the blind; for them there is no long, soulful gazing into the depths of another’s eyes, but rather a touch, a breath, a shared moment of silence, pregnant with shared cadences, an aching to give birth.

Perhaps - although out of context - the psalmist put it well; ‘They have no speech, they use no words; no sound is heard from them.  Yet their voice goes out into all the earth, their words to the ends of the world.’

The first tier of love is that moment when you realize that there is something more than the ordinary in the closeness of your communication.  You notice - with wonder - an unspoken, instinctive understanding.  An arcane knowledge, previously hidden from you, opens your mind to the mind of the other.  And you can do nothing, except bask in the enormity of it.

And a tear may fall.

And then they go.  Loss is the second tier - probably neither planned nor perceived - but gone; the emptiness a rock in your chest, a visceral ache that no amount of yearning will satisfy.  No entreaties to God, no substitution prayers will fill the gaping maw of dark void, and memories only slash open the raw wound to the accompaniment of mocking laughter.  Helplessness is your cup, brokenness is your portion - and now you must face them both to pass on.

And a tear may fall.

But whence came this sunlight?  A healing gift, unbidden; a lifting of despair and a restoration of sanity.  As blood returns to cold and lifeless limbs, so the warmth of gratitude (the third tier) begins to flow for what had been given and shared.  Never sought, and never yet deserved, a new sense surrounds your heart - again, unspoken, yet clamouring to the edges of your soul.  Finally, what you loved - then lost - is now yours for eternity.

And a tear may fall.



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