God and Love

When you hear mention of God, what do you think of? For myself, I think of a parent. Of a great mother, a great father who is always there; who is ever present. And when I, then, think of my relationship with God, I think of myself as a little child, who scraps his knee and goes running back to God, that great mother, for healing; for a gentle kiss on the place that hurts, that kiss that’ll make everything better.
It’s not always easy, though, to get back to God. Sometimes I find myself wandering more and more away from God and less and less into Her love. There are times when I feel lonely and scared, like a little child, and just wanting to find my way home to the home where She is, where She can kiss it all better. But sometimes to get back home, there is a big hill to walk back up, or a giant mountain to climb. Or some other difficult obstacle.
I sometimes ask myself how I ever got to this place, how I could’ve gotten myself to get to this point. More times than not I find myself clueless, without an answer. And sometimes it can seem that the road back up can be so hard. For a while, while I try to make my way back up to God, I feel as if I am almost there. I can almost feel the warmth of God’s radiant love shining on me, like I’m right at the edge of being home again. Then I slip back again, back into the cold and harsh world that we call life, reality.
It’s in these times when I feel most like that small child, most afraid. I feel like crying. A lot of times, in fact, I do. Most of the time it doesn’t make me feel any better though. Actually, I often feel worse. I feel alone, even if I am not. I feel as if I have been abandoned. And when I see so many people around me who are overflowing with love and happiness and with an overall plain joy, I often wish I could be like them and know what that is like once again.
There is a saying that goes “You can’t buy love”. Well, that seems like a very true statement. “Love” that has been bought is not really love at all. It’s just a cheap imitation, a little plastic toy that you take off the shelf in a 10-cent store. It ends up useless and void, because it is not real. Not true love. Real love is something that holds dear in your heart. It is something that holds strong in your soul. It clasps on to your very being, seeping down into you and filling a dark void to make you closer to a whole, rather than a crumbled up bunch of pieces; a jigsaw puzzle that seems almost impossible to figure out and complete.
Sometimes I feel afraid to even attempt to try to put the puzzle together. I’m afraid of what I might find if, in the very end, I do put it all together. I don’t know if I do want to know. Sometimes it seems that I would prefer the struggle and the hurt more than I would the complete puzzle. I’m afraid that in the completion of the puzzle I’ll find something in myself that I did not want to see, imperfection. A broken spirit. A soul in the form of a small, scared child. That’s the truth of it. And through it all, there is still a part of me, somewhere inside, that wants to be loved and embraced by God. I still want to know that there is love out there that will keep me and hold me and let me know that everything will be alright in the end.
So maybe, one day, I will finish the jigsaw puzzle. And who knows what I’ll find there. Maybe I’ll find that love that I’ve been searching for. Maybe I’ll find God in all Her glory, standing there with arms wide open and smiling. And as I walk the distance between her and I, She’ll say, “Welcome home my child. Welcome home my dearest son. I am glad that you have returned.”
When I feel lonely, lost, and hurting, maybe, just maybe, I’ll remember this. And in the deepest, most desolate, and most dark part of me, a little light will shine. And I’ll smile because I’ll know, with all my heart, that no matter where I am, I am home when I am with God. Thanks be to God.
- by Nico Anderson