WHERE IS LOVE?

I probably should stop reading the news and just hide in the quiet confines of ignorance and apathy.  I should close my eyes and feign blindness as the world grapples with the ugliness that society heaps upon itself.  I should be deaf to the cries of injustice that put a stranglehold to truth and civility.  I should be inured and impassive to the glut of nonsensical and nefarious rubbish that foolish individuals spew out to dignify their risible outlook on issues that matter.   After all, who am I?  I can't change people and I'm powerless to change things.

The last couple of weeks were particularly hard and emotionally draining for a lot of people as the nation's security was again severely compromised.  As the events in Boston flashed in the news media and brought to us in explicitly painful, graphic detail the carnage of innocent individuals,  our sense of well-being was altered, our haven of peace was violated and we were left dazed in that precarious state of disbelief of what was true and glaringly real. 

Prior to that event, the news started to cover the trial of an individual who hid behind the protective cloak of his profession to commit unspeakable, monstrous acts against the helpless human beings who were born, yet unborn, alive, yet dead,  according to his warped and evil pronouncement.  In many ways, he was a career criminal, an executioner, a murder-for-hire monster who used his title to commit vile acts with impunity.   Sanctioned by society and the band of individuals who championed the right to kill through abortion, this physician who swore to heal and protect life never flinched in his unconscionable rampage to deny the unborn the right to life even as they breathed, even as they helplessly cried, even as their tiny arms struggled to ward off his merciless hand as he snipped their spinal cord.  These were not human acts by any stretch of the imagination.  Animals behaved with more caring, intelligence and compassion.   As we contemplated  these societal issues and problems that threatened to destroy the best in people, those values and feelings, and emotions that made us human, don't we wrestle to find the answer to the question, "Where is love"?

As we peel off that coating of respectability imbued by civilization, the essence of who we really are is well concealed within the sophisticated layers of refinement and culture.  Kindness, humanity, decency, integrity, and a myriad of other  values that we need to cultivate and nurture to be "quality" human beings cannot be developed outside ourselves albeit we can look up to others that we can emulate.  But unless we actively practice those principles,  they will lie forever dormant in the recesses of the soul.  And love, that vital emotion that morphs from those values, will not have the chance to grow if we never provided that environment where it can thrive and evolve.

So where is love?  The young boy, Oliver, in Charles Dickens'  "Oliver Twist" desperately asked the same gut-wrenching question. Has our society lost that vital emotion to the cruel and callous disregard that other human beings frequently exhibit toward others?  As I reflect on that question,  the sense of gloom and doom that has initially wrenched my spirit to fill with rancor, is replaced by that supernal peace that only God can provide.   There comes that reassuring voice of the Spirit that soothes the soul like flashes of light in the midst of an encircling gloom.

Where is love?  It is spoken in hushed tones of encouragement as rescuers lend a helping hand to the victims of  the Boston bombing.  It is in the unselfish acts of kindness of virtual strangers who open their homes to those who are searching for their loved ones amid the confusion of the day.  It is displayed in many forms - in the clasped hands of an unidentified woman as she lifts her head towards the sky in prayer,  in the heroic efforts of peacekeepers to find the culprits without regard for their personal safety, in the tears and prayers of a nation,  even in the concern expressed by the global community through social media sites that gives the victims the assurance that they are not alone.  

The recent unfortunate tragedy in Boston encapsulates society's caring side but it is not a solitary incident nor an unusual occurrence.  It is demonstrated every day in quiet acts of kindness that do not clamor for recognition.  It is there as neighbors help neighbors in many, many unheralded display of what is good and decent in all of us.  The kindly deed of good Samaritans that come to the rescue of someone unfamiliar is love in action, that spark of the divine from Him who is love personified.  It is entrenched in kind words, in the warmth of a simple smile, in the comfort of a gentle touch.   We have been haplessly jaded by society's ills so when horrific things happen, cynicism, doubt,  pessimism and hopelessness will sometimes inhibit us from seeing the beauty that is still present in the hearts of people.  But when we endeavor to search deeper, down in the substratum of the spirit where the best in humanity is safely and firmly tucked in,  we will find that exquisite spark that will drive away the obsidian fiend of despair that threatens to destroy us.  Then we will no longer ask and wonder, "Where is love"?  For we can find it here,  still living and beating mightily within us. 

Let Me Gather Shards of Moonlight

LET ME GATHER SHARDS OF MOONLIGHT

Let me gather shards of moonlight,

From the specter of lost dreams;

Let me wrap their fragile pieces

For the wonder just within. 

Let me pick up shards of promise

From the shores of borrowed time;

Let me piece them all together,

Let me know they're truly mine.

I will mock the haughty raindrops;

I will dare the winter chill.

I'll defy the ruthless sunshine,

For the moonlight's mellow gleam.

Then with moonbeams glowing softly,

I'll search for the  half-sung song.

I will tame the colored rainbow,

That I watched in awe so  long. 

I will chase the dreaded shadows

Lurking just beneath the gloom;

And with moonlight's guiding radiance,

Find the beauty and the song!

Meet Me In A Place Where Dreams Lie

MEET ME IN A PLACE WHERE DREAMS LIE

Meet me in a place where dreams lie

Where the heart is free to roam,

Where life's sunset is the dawning

Of a lovely, tranquil morn.

Meet me in a place where music

Still plays its old refrain,

And the promise that it carries

Whispers to the soul again.

Meet me where the sun will linger

When forever parts with now;

Where the long and bright tomorrow,

Lights the path it left, somehow.

Tell me all the craved-for wonders,

All the echoes of lost time;

Let me hear the subtle musings

For the words that lost their rhyme.

Let me see a world that beckons,

To a soul that knows no rest;

Show me where the moonbeams carry,

Their soft balm of longed-for peace.

So meet me in a place eternal,

Guide me as I  grope along;

Hold my hand to ward off sorrow,

For forever's love is long.

BEFORE THE FLOWERS BLOOM

A classic rhyme from an old childhood poem has resurfaced from memory as I listen to the pattering noise a drenching rain inexorably carries. “April showers, bring May flowers”. Those who feel inconvenienced by a few heaven-sent drops of moisture or those who consider rain a juggernaut of nature, should regard it as a prelude to beauty, that germane hand that gives the brown earth its verdant, emerald blush in spring, the caring touch that nudges the buds to share their vibrant, colored blooms, or that unseen force that restores the hibernating vegetation to awaken in unabashed exultation of life.

The earth will be an unsightly stretch of drabness where beauty is nonexistent without that enviable power of rain to coax the colors to spring forth and breathe life to the spoils of winter. Invariably, it obscures that unfettered brightness of the sun as it scatters clouds overhead like a canopy of gray, cottony shield. There is soporific comfort in the rhythm of its incessant sound as it falls to the earth and the lure to wallow in its murky depths surprisingly affords a calming aura that sings to the soul. It exudes a transcendental beauty that needs to be felt rather than seen and only those who are inclined to uncover its hidden allure will truly understand its magic.

But rain has its cruel streak, an ugly side that can spell havoc and mayhem in its egregious, uncontrolled fury. It can segue from its docile, reticent nature to a leviathan, ferocious monster that leaves nothing inviolate. It is that masochistic force of nature that can punish and exact vengeance with impunity and these nefarious attributes, despite the scientific advances the world has seen, remain essentially untamed.

Beauty and ugliness: Are there better metaphors to life? As rain precedes the beauty of spring, there is that prescient hand that dispenses the refiner’s fire to cleanse the soul before its radiance can be revealed. The crucible of life, that testing furnace of affliction, enhances and hones us to uncover the polished entity that we are, that flawless spirit a loving Father assiduously fashioned in his loving,  unerring hand.

“April showers, bring May flowers.” There is an unvarnished truth, both physical and divine, to this simple, incisive rhyme.  Sorrow, trials and life’s storms – they are underpinnings to life, those elemental, strengthening factors that are indispensable to a strong and firm foundation where beauty needs to dwell like multi-colored blooms sprouting through the earth after a cleansing rain. Showers, rain, darkness – we need them to sober and soften us like the ground under our feet, before the flowers bloom.