Nothing Is Missing

Fourteen years today since David passed. Sometimes I wonder, will I ever find such profound love again?

Is it possible for someone to love me as much as David did? But even if I never find such another love, I know that I’ve been given a gift that many never receive. A taste of my belovedness. Through the eyes and heart of another. That’s what David’s love has given me.

And still does.

Yet it’s just a taste. For I have had moments in which I’ve so powerfully experienced my belovedness that I could barely take it in. Moments that I can only describe as mystical.  Because they came out of nowhere and filled me with a “knowing.”

A knowing that, without a doubt, I am loved beyond measure by an immeasurable Presence.

Yet that knowing slips away so easily. In the day-to-day living, I keep forgetting. Or questioning. Even doubting. Like Thomas in this past Sunday’s gospel reading.

“If only you have eyes to see, you will see me everywhere.”

I do want to “see.” But sometimes I need more. Sometimes I need to touch and love the wounds – in myself and others – before I can remember who I am and whose I am. Before I can remember that I am the beloved.

And that nothing is missing anywhere.

Several years ago when I was going through a low point in my aloneness in my log home in Virginia, I reached out for spiritual help. Out of nowhere, I received these words as a reminder.

“Do you not know that your entire being is encompassed by my love?”

Since then it has become like a mantra. Words that I repeat when I need them most.

They remind me that not only I, but everyone and everything, is encompassed by this love.

Recently I took a few days silent retreat simply because I wanted to listen more deeply. I wanted to put aside what I thought I knew, and discover something more, and different, about this Mystery we call God. But I couldn’t get away from this all-encompassing, self-emptying love that made itself known to me and within me in various ways. A love that assured me – again – that nothing is missing.

At times I still feel the sadness of losing David so soon. But I don’t get lost in nostalgia, regrets, or self-pity. Rather, I feel my longing more keenly. A longing to be ever more present to this ever-abiding, interabiding love that gives itself to me every day. And longs to be known and trusted.

If only I have eyes to see.

Nothing is missing anywhere.