Mary Morrell

Within the mystery of death, love stands guard and waits, filling the moments that "are" with itself, so that the moments to come will never be empty, never devoid of someone so loved.

To offer our very selves to another in love is to place that sacred trust in their hands; hands that may falter, leaving us rejected, ridiculed, abandoned and ashamed. In that very moment of surrendering to love we become vulnerable, our hearts and needs exposed to someone who may not cherish the gift we offer.

Simplicity allows a measure of freedom which the complexities of modern life greedily consume _ freedom to think, to reflect, to create, to serve and be sincerely generous with our time and presence.

Often someone else's words can provoke us to memories both painful and sweet, and remind us of things we should have learned, but sometimes forget.

Love by its very nature is extravagant, but we poor human beings, so caught up in fear and worry, limit the very love we were created to bring into the world.

For many years, February was a difficult month for me after the death of my parents. My father died in February, just a week before my mother's birthday. For years their loss cast a pall over the month. I missed them terribly. But time has changed things. I see my father often in the face of my son and I run into my mother daily each time I pass the hall mirror.

In my life, John has been the epitome of gratitude, and not just because he responds to every meal as if it were the best he'd ever eaten. Throughout the many years of our friendship I have learned that John lives on the breath of gratitude and his response is always celebratory. If an exclamation point had arms and legs, its name would be John.