I peer into the face of my lonliness expecting nothing. . .
I peer into the face of my pain ~ wanting all love and hope ~ believing in nothing at all. I looked into the eyes of my sorrow and lost myself in the Presence.
In the arms of my past memories I felt the hope so l long ago faded, but now resurrected in the light of new found striving. . .and I see You, my neglected friend, searching me with Your smile, Your unencumbered love ~ knowing me well yet loving me still.
And when I find loving so difficult, so painful and caring too much of a burden to bear, when the road before me turns dark and silent, You are there. . .willing me on, smiling me into existence, tugging at me with Your eyes, holding me with Your glance ~ for it is all I can stand; a loving glance, a longing for truth in a world cold and sterile ~ my world, my making, my self-imposed tomb.
In these hours of desperate need, when what I desire is too painful to accomplish or realize, it is in this that my thoughts turn to you and ask why. Why must it be so? How can one go on when the force, the desire, the need turns cold before Your face?
I felt from time to time like one big bruise. That any touch is painful, even loving ones. I remember a time when I fell and scraped my knees and bruised my side and my mom kissed it and soothed it with ointment. I remember that even those loving touches were painful. . .the promise of “let me kiss it and make it better” was painful.
Yet, the love continued, the nurturing went on and soon the painful became just a memory and the love and care took its place. I know that this pain will pass. You have “kissed” my hurt and held me in your love, even though that too was painful.
Love and life is a messy thing said Fr. Dan Sullivan CP and he was right. It asks everything of me, it pulls me in all directions and leads me in ways I wish not to go. But go on I must for I am a creature of Love and you are a creature of Love.
Our existence has only one truth, one purpose ~ to love, to smile into existence those who are also searching the faces of their lonliness, their sorrow, their pain.
Sandy Ozanich ~ Copyright 1990