It's been a while since I've hit the blog site. To those who have been following faithfully, please forgive me. There's a reason for my absence. It's called avoidance. We all know that word, don't we?! God has been speaking to me about a subject that I have found too overwhelming to think about let alone write about. But I think it must be done. What follows below is the depth of my humanity.
I saw a man in the distance. He was walking toward me and I him. We were on a quaint back lane, one of many that sprawls my living area and provides a nice respite to the over-trafficked roads. There were many other passersby, but this man I spied from a great distance. He never saw me and I wish I could erase his sight from my memory. There was something different about him and it wasn't good. I looked to the ground and I urged myself to not look when we passed for I knew the pain would be too much to bear. "Don't look, don't look, don't look," I chanted. Despite my pleading heart, I looked the moment we passed. We were no more than inches apart. One misplaced step and I could have very easily brushed against him. I knew as soon as looked I should have stopped, but I quickened my pace as tears quickened from my eyes and my heart burst.
Here in Nepal, I daily encounter the disabled, the deformed, and the destitute. Daily I ask, "what do I do? How do I respond?" What do you say to a lame man with one eye who stretches out his hand? How do you respond to the leper who waits on the curb for a coin? What do you do when the hopeless reach out? I have no answers, but I have an abundance of tears. Like so many, I find it easiest to just go numb and pretend they're not there, to just walk by and look the other way. There are so many I sometimes find the only place to look is down. And I hate myself with every step.
Then there was this man. I wasn't going to look, but I did. Even though I looked, I didn't look at him, the man. I looked at his deformity. In doing so, I was forced to look at every disabled, deformed, and destitute soul that I've ignored for the past 2 months. Imagine with me now, as I did then, what it would be like to wear the ugliest parts of ourselves on the outside for all to see. The most grotesque and gruesome parts that we desperately hide in our closets. What if we wore these repulsive secrets on our faces? How would people respond? How would we feel? What if no one looked at us? What if disgust at the sight of us drove people to the other side of the street? What if no one dared to touch us and children cried in fear? Would we ask, "why me?"
Then I wondered: what would happen if I stopped? What would happen if I reached out a hand, touched, and prayed? What would God do?
Not many extend a hand to lepers, especially those begging on a street corner. But I think about Jesus and I think about what He did when He cleansed a leper in Matthew 8. The most powerful moment must have been in the touch. Jesus did more than pronounce the leper clean. He did more than stretch out His hand. Jesus touched. How long had it been since that unnamed leper felt the touch of another human being? How long had it been since that unnamed leper was given attention? He bowed before our Lord with a desire to be clean, but he rose loved, seen, and touched. Jesus did it. Jesus was willing, as the Word of God states. He stopped, He reached out His hand, He touched, He prayed, and God healed.
It was His willingness to touch that stirs me and convicts my fear and my shame for I can barely look in their eyes before I am consumed with tears. Where is the hope for these that are lost and wandering? I can't change the world. I can't make it a better place. I can't change circumstance. I can't save the lost and wandering. But I know what I can do: I can stop, I can touch, and I can pray. God, give me boldness to just stop.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Monday, August 9, 2010
Off to India!
Fun story! Our flight departed Kathmandu, Nepal airport for Bhadrapur with time to spare. It actually left 10 minutes early! I'm sure most of you would agree that a flight leaving on time is rare enough, but to leave early?! I thought we were off to a great start. After 50 minutes in the air, we landed at our small destination airport about 35 km from the India border. We gathered our bags in the steamy hottness only to learn there was a bandh in the town. This means strike!!! No taxis were available to transport us. Our choices were a 3-hour rickshaw ride to the border or a 30 minute motorcycle ride. Not a difficult choice with all things considered. So there I was! My red, 60-litre trekking pack was strapped to my backside and my blue backpack carrying my laptop was strapped to my frontside. As soon as my right leg straddled the bike and my left foot left the ground, my skinny Nepali "motorbike taxi" driver was off. Wind in my face! Two choices were before me: 1) hang on for dear life; 2) sit back and ride. I chose both!
We were a motorcycle caravan of three consisting of 1 American co-worker, 1 Nepali co-worker, and me. My driver liked to be in the lead! It was a beautiful but bumpy ride and a looming rain cloud followed us for the duration of our 25-minute journey. Thankfully, the rain stayed until evening.
At the border post for Nepal and India, a very primitive place, we passed through Nepal Immigration and then Indian. Not a computer was in sight! Everything was done by hand and all record of those entering/leaving the country were catalogued in large ledger books. Did I mention it was hot? It was hot! All rooms were open in the hopes of capturing a cool breeze. What a life!
We hired a taxi to drive us the 1 hour to Siliguri, India where we spent the night, then traveled the remaining 3.5 hours to Jaigaon the following morning. We drove by numerous tea estates. Beautiful! The best tea in the world comes from these parts!
More to follow on Jaigaon soon! Internet access is limited to a small internet cafe that runs very slowly. . .oh well. . .at least we have continuous electricity in India!
We were a motorcycle caravan of three consisting of 1 American co-worker, 1 Nepali co-worker, and me. My driver liked to be in the lead! It was a beautiful but bumpy ride and a looming rain cloud followed us for the duration of our 25-minute journey. Thankfully, the rain stayed until evening.
At the border post for Nepal and India, a very primitive place, we passed through Nepal Immigration and then Indian. Not a computer was in sight! Everything was done by hand and all record of those entering/leaving the country were catalogued in large ledger books. Did I mention it was hot? It was hot! All rooms were open in the hopes of capturing a cool breeze. What a life!
We hired a taxi to drive us the 1 hour to Siliguri, India where we spent the night, then traveled the remaining 3.5 hours to Jaigaon the following morning. We drove by numerous tea estates. Beautiful! The best tea in the world comes from these parts!
More to follow on Jaigaon soon! Internet access is limited to a small internet cafe that runs very slowly. . .oh well. . .at least we have continuous electricity in India!
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Dinner with Nuns
Next great story of the Buddhist nuns!
As I've mentioned before, there was much generosity shared between the Buddhist nuns and I. If it were a battle of generosity, I most certainly lost! I couldn't walk by their little retreat habitats without an offering of water or food. Most times, I only had a smile and friendly touch to offer in return. Once, however, I was able to bring them apples. Their lives are so simple that a gift of fruit (which can be costly) can be a great honor. However, in thinking I was making a kind offering, they out did it by making a plate of fried doughnut things! Please don't get me wrong. We weren't in competition with each other, but I confess that I started to feel uncomfortable to walk by them never having anything to give!!
One night I will never forget. I was returning to my room after our afternoon meditation class. Dinner would be served in about an hour. I saw the nuns outside their rooms and cautiously approached. I just wanted to sneak by and use the potty! But they had different intentions spying me coming down the stairs to the lower level. I was invited inside. I felt humbled by this as I'd never seen the inside of their dwelling place. It consisted of 2 rooms of almost nothing, although they did have electricity running to 1 light bulb in the living area and a few wall sockets. The first square room was the cooking area; the second was the living area. No running water. No toilet. They would often leave buckets out when it rained to collect their water and then boil it for drinking.
The kitchen contained a small propane stove and a few shelves to hold cooking goods. They had baskets of potatoes, onions, ginger, and tomatoes. They had a few dishes and cooking utensils. The living area housed a bed and also a couch of hard cushions. The far wall was made entirely into a shrine with a few drawers and shelves below. I presume clothes and a select few personal items were housed in these. Each room also had 1 window for natural light and ventilation. These 2 rooms belonged to Pema, but they nuns seemed to share everything. The second nun, with whom I bonded the most (can't spell her name), lived closest to me. Though they had little, they had all that was necessary. Their days and evenings were spent entirely in Buddhist meditation and daily chores for sustenance.
I was led inside to sit on the couch. They must have been expecting me as I was served a boiled potato with a pile of chili powder to dip it in. Very tasty snack. They also served butter tea. This wasn't my first experience with butter tea, though I feel it necessary to add that I'd always hoped my first experience with this buttery beverage would also have been my last. Sadly, it was not so. There I was feeling trapped by 2 nuns with whom I couldn't speak and who were expecting me to drink what I feel no qualms in calling a vile beverage. The second none remained in the cooking area cooking while I sat in silence with Pema eating a potato and drinking vileness. I didn't just have 1 cup. I didn't just have 2 cups. Before the night was over, I'd had 4 cups!!! No more! My stomach is turning as I write. I won't mention my stomach ache the following morning.
I was somehow hoping that I could getaway after a potato and 2 cups of tea. At my first and only attempt, the second nun barred my path and bade me return to my cushions. I later watched her cook for awhile wanting a heads up on what I might be having for dinner. It looked and smelled good enough. Ginger, tomatoes, onions, and some sort of spiny cucumber looking vegetable sauteed in sunflower seed oil. She was also making roti (flat bread). Can't go wrong with roti. So I sat in silence exchanging odd glances with Pema. Then the food came. No worries, I thought.
My little bowl was very hot! And even though they offered me a spoon, I opted to eat with my hands as they did. The second nun waited for me to take a bite. She was clearly eagerly awaiting my response. So, with a piece of roti, I grabbed a large slice of the cucumber looking vegetable and popped it into my mouth. My thoughts went something like this: "hmmm. . .this isn't a cucumber. In fact, this isn't good. Please don't throw up in your mouth. How am I going to eat a whole bowl of this?! Please don't throw up in your mouth!" To make it worse, I only had the vile butter tea to wash it down!!
Somehow, I finished the bowl with a smile on my face. It was well worth it and I knew it then as much as I know it now. After dinner, we engaged in a wonderful conversation. . .as much as was possible considering the language barrier, of course. It was most fun! We were 3 teenagers at a slumber party exploring each others facial features and making fun of our figures. Not at all what I would have expected, but women are women no matter where they are! After about 70-75 minutes or so, the nuns kicked me out (very nicely). It was time for their meditation practice.
It was an honor to share a meal with these women. It was a greater honor to share humanity and a bit of laughter. I pray to not ever forget their darling faces and sweet countenances. I pray even more for their eternal salvation. My love is dim compared to the love of God, but I trust in His revelatory power. Perhaps I'll see their darling faces in heaven!
Let me offer a word of caution: DON'T EVER EAT A SPINY CUCUMBER LOOKING VEGETABLE!
As I've mentioned before, there was much generosity shared between the Buddhist nuns and I. If it were a battle of generosity, I most certainly lost! I couldn't walk by their little retreat habitats without an offering of water or food. Most times, I only had a smile and friendly touch to offer in return. Once, however, I was able to bring them apples. Their lives are so simple that a gift of fruit (which can be costly) can be a great honor. However, in thinking I was making a kind offering, they out did it by making a plate of fried doughnut things! Please don't get me wrong. We weren't in competition with each other, but I confess that I started to feel uncomfortable to walk by them never having anything to give!!
One night I will never forget. I was returning to my room after our afternoon meditation class. Dinner would be served in about an hour. I saw the nuns outside their rooms and cautiously approached. I just wanted to sneak by and use the potty! But they had different intentions spying me coming down the stairs to the lower level. I was invited inside. I felt humbled by this as I'd never seen the inside of their dwelling place. It consisted of 2 rooms of almost nothing, although they did have electricity running to 1 light bulb in the living area and a few wall sockets. The first square room was the cooking area; the second was the living area. No running water. No toilet. They would often leave buckets out when it rained to collect their water and then boil it for drinking.
The kitchen contained a small propane stove and a few shelves to hold cooking goods. They had baskets of potatoes, onions, ginger, and tomatoes. They had a few dishes and cooking utensils. The living area housed a bed and also a couch of hard cushions. The far wall was made entirely into a shrine with a few drawers and shelves below. I presume clothes and a select few personal items were housed in these. Each room also had 1 window for natural light and ventilation. These 2 rooms belonged to Pema, but they nuns seemed to share everything. The second nun, with whom I bonded the most (can't spell her name), lived closest to me. Though they had little, they had all that was necessary. Their days and evenings were spent entirely in Buddhist meditation and daily chores for sustenance.
I was led inside to sit on the couch. They must have been expecting me as I was served a boiled potato with a pile of chili powder to dip it in. Very tasty snack. They also served butter tea. This wasn't my first experience with butter tea, though I feel it necessary to add that I'd always hoped my first experience with this buttery beverage would also have been my last. Sadly, it was not so. There I was feeling trapped by 2 nuns with whom I couldn't speak and who were expecting me to drink what I feel no qualms in calling a vile beverage. The second none remained in the cooking area cooking while I sat in silence with Pema eating a potato and drinking vileness. I didn't just have 1 cup. I didn't just have 2 cups. Before the night was over, I'd had 4 cups!!! No more! My stomach is turning as I write. I won't mention my stomach ache the following morning.
I was somehow hoping that I could getaway after a potato and 2 cups of tea. At my first and only attempt, the second nun barred my path and bade me return to my cushions. I later watched her cook for awhile wanting a heads up on what I might be having for dinner. It looked and smelled good enough. Ginger, tomatoes, onions, and some sort of spiny cucumber looking vegetable sauteed in sunflower seed oil. She was also making roti (flat bread). Can't go wrong with roti. So I sat in silence exchanging odd glances with Pema. Then the food came. No worries, I thought.
My little bowl was very hot! And even though they offered me a spoon, I opted to eat with my hands as they did. The second nun waited for me to take a bite. She was clearly eagerly awaiting my response. So, with a piece of roti, I grabbed a large slice of the cucumber looking vegetable and popped it into my mouth. My thoughts went something like this: "hmmm. . .this isn't a cucumber. In fact, this isn't good. Please don't throw up in your mouth. How am I going to eat a whole bowl of this?! Please don't throw up in your mouth!" To make it worse, I only had the vile butter tea to wash it down!!
Somehow, I finished the bowl with a smile on my face. It was well worth it and I knew it then as much as I know it now. After dinner, we engaged in a wonderful conversation. . .as much as was possible considering the language barrier, of course. It was most fun! We were 3 teenagers at a slumber party exploring each others facial features and making fun of our figures. Not at all what I would have expected, but women are women no matter where they are! After about 70-75 minutes or so, the nuns kicked me out (very nicely). It was time for their meditation practice.
It was an honor to share a meal with these women. It was a greater honor to share humanity and a bit of laughter. I pray to not ever forget their darling faces and sweet countenances. I pray even more for their eternal salvation. My love is dim compared to the love of God, but I trust in His revelatory power. Perhaps I'll see their darling faces in heaven!
Let me offer a word of caution: DON'T EVER EAT A SPINY CUCUMBER LOOKING VEGETABLE!
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Photo Journey of Asura Cave Retreat Center
A few more steps. Almost to class!
Blessing from a Buddhist Nun
Great story! As I mentioned in a previous blog, I lived next to 2 nuns on a much lengthier retreat than mine. It's quite common for monks/nuns to spend weeks to years in retreat at the Asura cave. These two nuns fell under the "years" category. As the days went by, we greeted each other joyfully depending solely on smiles and non-verbal gestures. From my very first day they exhibited great generosity - more than I was prepared for for reasons I'll explain later! One day, whilst walking to my room after a meditation class, one of the nuns, Pema, called me over with hand and arm signals (yes - that's military jargon). Thankfully, I had another young woman from class with me! She's much better at understanding non-verbal communication than I am. If I learned anything on retreat, it's that I'm terrible at charades! But I digress. This fine nun asked us to cup our hands together as if for drinking. Uh-oh, I thought. Then she pulled out an old 20 oz Fanta bottle filled with a lemonade like substance. I had my suspicions from the beginning. She poured a couple of drops into each of our hands and motioned for us to drink. Knowing full well what I was about to drink, I had to do it. I want you to know that I did it with great courage!! Not really! I gave my companion a doubtful look and waited for her to do it first!! When I saw that she had survived, I went for it. I licked the one lick's worth of beverage cupped in my palms. Yep - homemade alcohol. Then, she placed a hard candy in each of our hands and advised we eat it. Again, I waited for my companion. When I saw that her face didn't contort too oddly, I also partook of what turned out to be a rather sweet candy.
What happened?? I know you are all wondering. To be honest, I'm not 100% sure. But let me offer a possible explanation of this seemingly odd act of generosity. In Buddhist traditions, offerings are set before altars of Buddhist figures/deities (Buddhas, Bodhisattvas). This is common in most other idol-intensive traditions, as well. In fact, take a browse through the Hebrew Bible! Offerings can include lighting butter lamps, money, incense, flowers, holy waters, rice, and other food and beverage items. Sometimes rituals are performed. Other times, the offering is enough. Pending circumstance, food offerings are either left on the altar and later fed to animals or they are removed for consumption after they've been blessed. In the latter circumstance, the food offerings may then be shared with others signifying that one also partakes of a Buddha's blessing. Essentially, from what I've gathered from my teachers, Pema was sharing a blessing with me. Though our faiths are opposite and though I place no deities before the One God, generosity from positive motivation is still generosity and should not be taken for granted or cast aside.
Without a doubt this woman was exercising compassion for me as intensely as I pray God's revelation for her. I don't know that I'll ever see these nuns again, but I do know that we will not ever forget each other and the acts of generosity that we shared.
Paul remarks on food sacrificed to idols in 1 Corinthians 8. Check out what he says and let me know what you think or how you feel.
I have another fabulous food story to share regarding my neighborly nuns. Stay tuned!
What happened?? I know you are all wondering. To be honest, I'm not 100% sure. But let me offer a possible explanation of this seemingly odd act of generosity. In Buddhist traditions, offerings are set before altars of Buddhist figures/deities (Buddhas, Bodhisattvas). This is common in most other idol-intensive traditions, as well. In fact, take a browse through the Hebrew Bible! Offerings can include lighting butter lamps, money, incense, flowers, holy waters, rice, and other food and beverage items. Sometimes rituals are performed. Other times, the offering is enough. Pending circumstance, food offerings are either left on the altar and later fed to animals or they are removed for consumption after they've been blessed. In the latter circumstance, the food offerings may then be shared with others signifying that one also partakes of a Buddha's blessing. Essentially, from what I've gathered from my teachers, Pema was sharing a blessing with me. Though our faiths are opposite and though I place no deities before the One God, generosity from positive motivation is still generosity and should not be taken for granted or cast aside.
Paul remarks on food sacrificed to idols in 1 Corinthians 8. Check out what he says and let me know what you think or how you feel.
I have another fabulous food story to share regarding my neighborly nuns. Stay tuned!
Monday, August 2, 2010
Response from Reader
The value of dialog is that it takes two! A reader responded to my last blog "A Note About Love" concerned that I'd left out and/or misrepresented the love between a man and a woman joined in matrimony. Loved the feedback! As a single woman, I cannot describe the magnificence of such a union, but I imagine many of you can! I'm sure it would be a great encouragement to many single women to hear the beauty of love in marriage described. Make a comment! Tell us about it!
To clarify, my butterfly metaphor was not designed to imply marriage is fleeting, elusive, or unworthy of pursuit. It is to the contrary. From the beginning, God created us for relationship, not only for Himself, but also others. Recall in Genesis 2:18 that God declared it was not good for humankind to be alone. The Apostle Paul, a single man, also valued marriage. I greatly appreciate his remarks to the married and the unmarried. Being unmarried myself, I have chosen to live by his encouragement to focus solely on the Lord until such time that He chooses to bless me with a partner. He states,
This is where I am in my journey; everyone's path is different and that is not to imply that one is better than another. I can only comment on my path. I'm captivated by the One who saved me, the One who loved me first. My heart belongs to Him. I'm still very young in Love and not quite ready to divide my attention. I love my life and I love how God uses me in both my joy and my struggle. This is our time; I'm in the Garden. I pray that I will one day have a partner to share in the glory of God, but that time has not yet come.
So. . .to all the unmarried women who read this blog, let me leave you with a fabulous quote from Maya Angelou: "A woman's heart should be so lost in God that a man needs to seek Him in order to find her."
To clarify, my butterfly metaphor was not designed to imply marriage is fleeting, elusive, or unworthy of pursuit. It is to the contrary. From the beginning, God created us for relationship, not only for Himself, but also others. Recall in Genesis 2:18 that God declared it was not good for humankind to be alone. The Apostle Paul, a single man, also valued marriage. I greatly appreciate his remarks to the married and the unmarried. Being unmarried myself, I have chosen to live by his encouragement to focus solely on the Lord until such time that He chooses to bless me with a partner. He states,
"One who is unmarried is concerned about the things of the Lord, how he may please the Lord; but one who is married is concerned about the things of the world, how he may please his wife, and his interests are divided. The woman who is unmarried, and the virgin, is concerned about the things of the Lord, that she may be holy both in body and spirit; but one who is married is concerned about the things of the world, how she may please her husband" (1 Corinthians 7:32-34).
This is where I am in my journey; everyone's path is different and that is not to imply that one is better than another. I can only comment on my path. I'm captivated by the One who saved me, the One who loved me first. My heart belongs to Him. I'm still very young in Love and not quite ready to divide my attention. I love my life and I love how God uses me in both my joy and my struggle. This is our time; I'm in the Garden. I pray that I will one day have a partner to share in the glory of God, but that time has not yet come.
So. . .to all the unmarried women who read this blog, let me leave you with a fabulous quote from Maya Angelou: "A woman's heart should be so lost in God that a man needs to seek Him in order to find her."
Sunday, August 1, 2010
A Note About Love. . .
Love is as ineffable as its Author. My feeble words will never adequately relay the visions of color and emotion rising within my spirit when it comes to the matter of Love. Still, I cannot contain the expression of devotion for the One within!
I should first make a brief differentiation in the semantics of love. There is a common meaning of love that is rooted in fleshly passion. This is fleeting. We find this love in Hollywood and fairy tales. We also find it in selfish desire. Young girls (and some not so young) often blindly chase this fleeting butterfly along the treacherous paths of worldly existence. I'm all too familiar with the danger along these paths. You see, contentment cannot be found in chasing this elusive butterfly of love. Even if one lucky girl catches the butterfly in her net, she soon discovers her butterfly will not survive captivity. This kind of love resides solely in the imagination and will never manifest in tangible form. It is not the love I wish to share, for its pursuit is futile.
There is, however, a Love worthy of pursuit. It doesn't require a butterfly net or an all-night stakeout. It can't be found running and panting through dark existence. It isn't an object to be stolen or even conquered. How do you conquer freedom, after all? To think freedom is conquerable is to enslave it. What freedom is that? No - this Love is a gift, a free gift that leads to life. In fact, it is the very definition of life. This is divine Love, neither fleeting nor elusive. So, where does one find such unconquerable Love? One need only to lay down their net and look up. In the upward gaze, one will find Another looking down waiting to pour out Love unimaginable. And what Love He is!
He is the wellspring of life that overflows without containment. Filled to overflowing, there are times I'm ready to explode. Times when the One living within me bursts forth and shatters through the darkness of the world. Truly, He is the Light that enlightens all humankind (John 1:9). His Love reaches the deepest depths of my spirit and fills me completely. He lights my lowest valleys and stands radiantly on my highest summits. He transcends all that I am and carries me to the heights of life. Yet, it is in my descent to nothingness that God's love is strongest within me. For it is in my nothingness that God can love through me. I love deeply because God dwells deeply and in communion with Him, I live deeply. This is Love and love divine.
I should first make a brief differentiation in the semantics of love. There is a common meaning of love that is rooted in fleshly passion. This is fleeting. We find this love in Hollywood and fairy tales. We also find it in selfish desire. Young girls (and some not so young) often blindly chase this fleeting butterfly along the treacherous paths of worldly existence. I'm all too familiar with the danger along these paths. You see, contentment cannot be found in chasing this elusive butterfly of love. Even if one lucky girl catches the butterfly in her net, she soon discovers her butterfly will not survive captivity. This kind of love resides solely in the imagination and will never manifest in tangible form. It is not the love I wish to share, for its pursuit is futile.
There is, however, a Love worthy of pursuit. It doesn't require a butterfly net or an all-night stakeout. It can't be found running and panting through dark existence. It isn't an object to be stolen or even conquered. How do you conquer freedom, after all? To think freedom is conquerable is to enslave it. What freedom is that? No - this Love is a gift, a free gift that leads to life. In fact, it is the very definition of life. This is divine Love, neither fleeting nor elusive. So, where does one find such unconquerable Love? One need only to lay down their net and look up. In the upward gaze, one will find Another looking down waiting to pour out Love unimaginable. And what Love He is!
He is the wellspring of life that overflows without containment. Filled to overflowing, there are times I'm ready to explode. Times when the One living within me bursts forth and shatters through the darkness of the world. Truly, He is the Light that enlightens all humankind (John 1:9). His Love reaches the deepest depths of my spirit and fills me completely. He lights my lowest valleys and stands radiantly on my highest summits. He transcends all that I am and carries me to the heights of life. Yet, it is in my descent to nothingness that God's love is strongest within me. For it is in my nothingness that God can love through me. I love deeply because God dwells deeply and in communion with Him, I live deeply. This is Love and love divine.
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