Give gratuitously, he says, and I can’t stop thinking about it. He’s talking about love but I’ve been watching my community give and give and give these past days. So many still in need and after mom calls I can’t help thinking that maybe it’s easier to give gratuitously to people you don’t know—people who don’t know you. No fallout from that.
Love is messy.
Everytime it happens I say to myself, I say, Never again, but when tomorrow comes I find I’m ok from the bruising. They say what doesn’t kill you will make you stronger but I say it makes me softer. And love becomes a free fall and I just lift my arms and scream happy the whole way. My former pastor told me once, when we were going down one of those crazy water slides with the youth, she said, It’s more fun when I scream.
I think I’m done holding it inside. I don’t need to look cool anymore. I don’t need to vie for good opinions. It is this imago Dei carried in every face I meet that keeps clamoring after me now.
I can’t just walk on by. I have to look again. Every time.
The Holy is there.
Give gratuitously, he says. And I’m still trying to figure out what it means.