As I get older, I’m more and more aware of time and the measured beats by which it slips away – between our fingers, loosed within breaths, tangled between the bed and wall………. All that we’ve held, but for fraction of eternity, and yet, still, until there is nothing left of us for holding to.

Eventually, we are no more than the sum of those who have loved us, those who grieve us when the night is long and the earth so very cold, who glory the sound of our name, regardless the passing of days (or lifetimes) between.

This morning, I spoke with a dear friend whose father passed yesterday. We’ve talked before about daddies and love that seems most cherished between a daughter and father. When she came to me today, it was with her arms open and eyes spilling over. She knew I would know, that I would feel the pain of her loss the same as I’ve relished the wonderful fullness of her life before this day.

She may not feel it now, but in a few days, that fullness will be her salvation. It will be the reminder of just how rich we can be, with only the presence of love in our lives, spilling to encompass everything we know.

In that fullness, I pray for her tears of gratitude.

Happiness cannot be traveled to, owned, earned, worn or consumed.  Happiness is the spiritual experience of living every minute with love, grace and gratitude. ~ Denis Waitley

how far from this
were days we journeyed
paths grown over –
weeds divine
mark the way
where once we tarried
beneath the bounty
of love’s design

. . .