God Loves Me Like That

Late in the night I kneel before my God, just He and I. The blast of air from the church heating vents quiets, and the creaking of the cold building stops. And then there is silence. God and I. And I feel His warmth. Words are not necessary …

I don’t know why I always cry at the end of the movie You’ve Got Mail. I must have seen it a dozen times or more, yet it’s always like the first. Perhaps it’s the old song that is being sung in the background; it fits so perfectly with the scene; there is a harmony between music, words, and picture that is so unusual, it moves me every time. Perhaps it’s the beautiful garden scene itself. But I think it’s mostly the awareness I feel that the event of two people, made for each other, finding each other, despite their vast differences, despite their personal problems, despite thinking that the other has hurt them, despite their personal loneliness in this vast universe of so many people, and despite all odds, they come to realize that they love each other. So at that moment, when I see all those wonderful things come together, I love it so much I cry. And as I kneel here in the chapel, I feel a similar moment in the relationship between God and me, and I think ….

God loves me like that.

Puppies just make me smile. Just saying the word “puppies” brings pleasant thoughts of playful little golden retrievers. In the quiet, I can see them learning all the things little puppies learn: them jumping and rolling atop each other, one struggling to stand as a sibling knocks him down, them looking up at the blue sky overhead and wondering where the water from the sprinkler is coming from, and them laying side by side quietly sleeping. Oh, in all their innocence, puppies always make me smile.

God loves me like that.

But I know that sometimes love is not so easy, and hard times are never forgotten. As a teenager, I remember being ashamed, and yet angry, when dad found the cigarettes in my coat pocket one day after school. I didn’t think about loving him then; I was quiet. I remember the child that my spouse miscarried in the night; I couldn’t look at it; I couldn’t understand why things like that happened; I couldn’t find love when I needed it, but I was there. And I remember my spouse cursing me and saying I didn’t love her because I couldn’t always agree with her. I felt a little like a parent with a child, confident I was right (but I wasn’t, always), trying to control my emotions --- and sometimes not successfully. It’s very hard to love when you don’t feel loved, and you’re living on the energy of past and expected future loves.

But God loves me very well, in times like that.

I remember my sister, my dad and my friend’s dying. They knew they would be with God shortly, and they trusted Him. And they trusted me to be with them in their hour of decision, and in their final hour of need. They trusted that I would always pray for them, and talk to them into eternity. They loved me, and knew I loved them.

God loves me like that.

At mass I see families of five, seven, or even ten or more, quietly praying, attentive and worshipping, together. When the Liturgy of the Word for children is announced, I see the little children walk quietly to the front of the church, brother and sister, hand in hand, and then they all genuflect before God -- and I can feel His love for them. I recall seeing the rich man serving at the soup kitchen, the old person praying seemingly alone in church, and I remember the radio station pledge drive that was doing poorly, until an anonymous donor gave the amount still needed --- he had dug deep. I remember the special day, long ago, the clear blue sky, the cold lake in front of me, the tall trees behind, and the snow-covered mountains on three sides before me; alone; just God and I. And I remember the funeral mass of a good man: the church was filled to overflowing. He had no talents; he had no money, but he had friends (even some whom he did not know, but they knew of him). I think if he could speak to them he would have said: “Thank you for being here today, but please don’t say you admire me; I was just a man. If you wish to honor my life, then live my life.” I see God in all of these people and things, and I know …

God loves me like that.

Kneeling in the quiet before him now, leaving unsaid all the ways He loves me, I feel great comfort. Because I will always remember, in the perfect moments together, in the gentle silliness of innocence, in the firm resolve that will hold us together in difficult times: no matter what, in all the beauty of his actions and of his creation, and in living and in dying, there exists the unsaid a confidence between us that this love will last always. Always.

God loves me like that.

Matthew 6: 24-34