You ask me what it is that I love? I love the sunshine and the temperature of a perfect October day. I love the mornings that make me feel alive - crisp leaves, brisk air that chills my body without stinging my lungs. I love the feeling of falling into bed at night, dead tired after a busy day, knowing that I need not do a thing for the next eight hours, yet they will pass in just a blink.
What is it that I love? I love the warmth of a pile of blankets, the weight of security and ease of mind. I love time spent with a blanket and a cup of hot tea. I love tea in its many forms and flavors - the tastes, the warmth, the cleansing properties - physically and emotionally. I love anything down, down pillows and blankets and coats - the tiny feathers conforming to the shape of my body, their tiny shafts holding the heat of my own heart. I love the blankness of an unscheduled day, and the expectant busyness of a packed one. I love glass drinkware: the proof of substance and fragility. I love the satisfaction dwelling within a filled notebook or page, painstakingly written by my own dear hand. I love foot. All of it. I love driving at high speeds - the one vice of my not-yet-fully-developed teenage brain. I love driving on a cool night with the windows down, the brisk and rushing air reminding me that I am so very alive.
What do I love? I love sending letters, my love neatly wrapped up and addressed. I love that infrequent email when it arrives: "You have a package" and the joy of spinning the tiny dial to reveal a not-so-empty tomb filled with neatly wrapped love for my enjoyment. I love loving people and being loved. I love sharing the warmth of my body with another precious beating heart. I love that my arms can hold both sweet dear babes and grown persons. I love the feeling of lean muscles beneath my touch. I love the wonder of watching a sweet little one fall asleep, and that magical snugliness of a damp, towel encased toddler.
I love words. I love nature. I love God.
I love Skyping my beautiful little nephew and the way "I love you Bethy" closes our every conversation, never sounding sweeter than when said by his not yet two self. I love truth and compassion and all-suffering love. I love forgiveness and redemption. I love my Mennonites and the way that they get it right most of the time when it comes to faith. I love God, I really do. Despite the confusion and mystery and pain, I believe in and love this great God of mine. You ask me what it is that I love? I love life and its many beautiful, perfect moments, glimpses of something pure and holy and beyond us.
