Saturday, February 27, 2010

Moments I Fall in Love All Over Again

I know it seems like I’ve been writing about “my angst” an awful lot lately, but truthfully, I’m realizing more with each passing day how beautifully the Universe and God/My Divine Source has supported me in every moment of my being. I’ve been, and am, abundantly gifted with whatever I desire in every single moment—without any efforting on my part—unless, of course, I’m wanting to experience that.

I picture it as all sorts of wavy energies coming together to burst into beingness all these amazing, and sometimes perplexing, things in my life. The energies take the forms of everything touchable--from a tiny grain of sand sparkling on my shoe to our beloved Max and Molly cats to this house that I call home. It flows outward to become the community that I play with. And that expands even further out to become the planet on which I live.

A whole world is created magically just for me to experience—and I’m the source and center of this amazing bubble of reality that is mine. I’m feeling more at Home here than I ever have before. The Kingdom of Heaven truly feels right at hand—right here on Earth where I am.

One thing I’ve recognized more and more fully as I go along is how truly we love one another unconditionally. All of us—every single human that was and is, has loved, and loves, unconditionally. Even when we were acting out love dramas loaded with conditions—the real thing was there right in the middle of it all.

Here are some of the moments when I fall in love with my world and those in it, all over again and again and again:

I woke up this morning with Kelly’s arm around me snuggling me close. I headed to the bathroom to turn the faucet on for Molly to get a drink, and Kel went downstairs to put together our morning cappuccinos. As I joined him in the kitchen, Max and Molly were sitting right behind him on the floor, waiting patiently for the food he had assembled to put in dishes for them after he finished frothing the creamer and milk for our coffee.

I was putting dishes away that I’d left in the sink to dry overnight when I heard him cuss. He’d accidentally dumped his freshly frothed milk all over the counter. My instinct was to intervene and grab the dishcloth and start wiping it up before it got to the edge and spilled over onto the floor. But something had me hesitate and watch instead—and I’m SO glad I did!

Kel stepped across the kitchen to grab a pancake spatula and a big serving spoon out of the utensil drawer. He used these to scrape up and save his precious froth off the counter and return it to our coffee cups. It looked and sounded like he was back working at his old fast-food job at Max’s Drive-in, wielding his utensils at the grill.

I burst out laughing. If I’d allowed my old tendencies to interfere and started cleaning up after him, I’d have missed out on one of the most prized and entertaining moments of my life.

As it was, I watched a new day come to life as a sparkling frost-covered morning outside while I sipped my delicious, frothy cappuccino (counter scraped) in my warm home. I had a contented Molly stretched out on the table beside me, along with Max gazing out the patio door from his place on the rug next to my feet. And I listened to Kel sipping his coffee and singing along with some song he was working on in the room below us. All was truly well in my world.

About a month ago, Kel came to find me the moment he got home from work to show me what he’d been perfecting with his co-workers all day. He bent his knees in something of a lunge, and rocked back and forth on his feet as he pumped his arms in rhythm and sang, “Bow-chicka-wow-wow.” We’d just watched the movie, Dear Frankie (one of my all-time favorites), where a little nine-year-old boy was doing a similar dance in the hallway outside his friend’s apartment as he waited for the door to be answered. God--my husband was adorable!

A few days later I was passing through the rec room where Kel was practicing guitar when he said to me, in reference to himself, “I suck. I should just give up and quit.”

My usual, exasperatingly useless response was to chew him out for being so cruel to himself. But this time I decided to hold my tongue and leave the room. I returned to the room a minute or so later and asked him what he wanted from me when he said things like that about himself in my presence, specifically for my ears.

He replied, “Tell me I suck and that I should give it up.”

So I obliged him and said, “You suck. You should give it up.”

And I walked out of the room grinning to myself as one of the great loves of my life continued playing his guitar.

“The World is My Oyster,” said the Pearl…

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