a sabbatical journey: Minnie tour and week 1

 Here you are, folks. The finished van. 

(Sorry for the wonkiness of the video. First, it's hard to show a van and keep a phone steady while trying to get a good view and without making everyone dizzy. Second, I tried to stabilize the video which just made it worse 😄 But I don't have time to fix it right now, so this is what you get!)

Day 3, Kalamazoo, Michigan:  Maggie and I started out on our own for the first time today. Since she didn't have a lap to sit on (I wouldn't let her sit on mine, as much as she wanted to), she sat on the little tray between the 2 seats so she could be as close to me as possible without actually being on my lap. And every time I open the door, she's ready to hop out (as in, get me out of here!). She's not a very contented traveler :(

Upon arrival at the Empire Bluff Trail in Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore, she was ready to go. And she LOVES sand, so this is a perfect place for her... as long as we can find trails that don't have a “no pets beyond this point” sign (something about preserving habitat for the endangered Piping Plover nesting sites... ok, I guess that's legit). So today, one trail with Maggie and one without her. And a beach for her to run on for a while.

(side note: I must say, for pit toilets that the park has, they are quite decent. Yes, still smelly. But large, many rolls of TP and generally clean. With hand sanitizer. And they can be found at every trailhead. Quite handy!)

And then comes the slightly stressful part of the day... finding a place to park and sleep. There are no designated free dispersed camping (camping outside of a designated campground) in northern Michigan that I could find. There is national forest land I drove through on the way here, but that's 60 miles away... not really looking to go that far. So I drove to the nearest town, almost a village, hoping that maybe I could inconspicuously park on a street. Well, that won't work. In this town, I'd be pretty obvious. Or hoping that there would be a random forest road that I could drive down a bit out of sight. Nope, not in this area. Just loads and loads of driveways off to what I imagine are vacation homes – beautiful mansion vacation homes. If I knew they were vacant, it would be so easy to pull in a driveway. There must be someone who would just let me park in their driveway for a night!

Eventually I drove down what looked like an empty road to find one gorgeous villa and then shortly after, a loop for the cul-de-sac development (very fancy development) that will be. In the middle of the loop is a patch of trees, so at the moment, I'm pulled behind the trees in such a way that I can't see the house up the street... and hopefully they can't see me. I have to admit that I'm a bit nervous – that someone will come up on me, or the neighbors will call the police. I don't think it would be a problem more than them asking me to move, but that would not be pleasant in the middle of the night – the moving part or being approached by who knows who! So we'll see what happens till morning.

Oh, and the other problem with this particular spot is that I can't really pull out the toilet to put anywhere and even the possibility of going to the woods is kind of ruled out - the trees behind me are marked “no trespassing”. So I might need to pull out the toilet and put it beside my bed – potentially not pulling out the whole bed tonight, but just sleeping on the bench as is. 

I'm looking forward to farther west where finding spots to camp shouldn't be as complicated.

Following day update: no disturbances in the middle of the night. The cushions are fairly comfortable to sleep on, though I think it'll be easier once I do actually set up the bed fully. But I pulled out the stove in the morning and boiled water for tea and I never saw a soul. Even when Maggie took off after deer in the morning and I went traipsing through the woods yelling for her, certain that someone in the houses behind those "no trespassing" signs would come out asking what the ruckus was all about at 7:30 in the morning. 

And no update on my little heater. I was quite warm enough in the evening and didn't light it. On the other hand, I woke up to a very chilly 33 degrees. I was warm, thanks to a cozy sleeping bag! But definitely did not want to crawl out into the frigidness of the morning.

a sabbatical journey: minivan conversion

 So what is sabbatical supposed to look like? I have no idea. Especially during COVID. I was hoping for a few things that might be out of the ordinary; a chance to experiment and explore in ways that aren't feasible in daily life. But last year when I was planning, I didn't have a good vision. 

In September when I returned, I saw a newspaper article on therapy dogs and got really excited about getting Maggie certified. But alas, the trainings were cancelled and regardless, in the facilities where therapy dogs would visit, visitors weren't allowed in anyway.

And so after the holidays and a retreat away in January, I was in York wondering what was going to be a focus and feel life-giving in the coming months. I hoped to plan a trip west to some National parks in April and May, but was also struggling to figure travel and lodging along with Maggie in a way that was going to be economical for multiple weeks. Not really wanting to set up camp constantly, and not wanting to book places to stay and be confined to a strict schedule, I thought a camper van would be nice. But more issues as they are really expensive to rent. 

Until my mom suggested converting a van. And I got excited about the possibility: something concrete to focus on and a way to explore something different, something I definitely wouldn't have the opportunity for in normal life. I don't have the carpentry skills, but she does. Enough to put together what we wanted. And between her and me, we are creative enough to figure out how to make it what we want.

So first step: find a van.

Meet Minnie.

Simple, unadorned, but sufficient for the purposes.

And then gutting her. Only a few bolts to unscrew to get those back seats out. More complicated was figuring out which levers to pull to get out the removable seats 😄

And then planning. Lots and lots of planning. Google searches. Minivan conversion research. 

Bed. Cushions. Storage. Curtains. Electric. 

What I would need to power a cooler. Is it possible? (In the end, no electric cooler - I just don't have the skill or time to install the solar panel and following electrical that I would probably need.) What kind of bed can I convert into seating? How does the bed get supported? How does anything we build get secured in the van? How will I have phone signal (and data) in remote parts of Colorado and Utah? Brainstorming what is possible and what would be nice and what feels feasible. 

We started with 2 benches with storage underneath, the second of which pulls out to make a 6x4 foot bed. This is the beginning of the frame for the benches/bed. Supposedly simple. In reality... not so much. I should have calculated how many hours we spent calculating and cutting and screwing... and then unscrewing and recalculating and recutting and rescrewing. And who knew, but there is barely one inch of level floor in that van. Not the easiest to try to make a level bed.

But it came together. And then putting the top on, slides in so that the one bench slides out flat and trying to figure out how to support the slide part of the bed. Fortunately between the two of us we came up with ideas of how to support all that needs to be supported. But man, my brain has been exhausted after many, many hours of calculations and problem-solving. 

And then cushions... did you know you can cut foam with an electric meat knife? Wesley and Maggie very much enjoyed the foam. And after hours looking for a decently-priced upholstery fabric that I liked, I narrowed it down to 25 options 😂 Maybe I'm too idealistic, but it had to be light enough to not make the space feel smaller than it already it and have enough pattern to make it interesting without being overwhelming. But I found one. Decision-making is not my strong suit. 

sneak peek at the cushions here!

And then a cabinet for the back that will provide storage... space for a cooler, portable toilet, stove and whatever else I'll need for the kitchen. Mom took an old kitchen cabinet she had in storage and sawed it off to fit the space. And then calculating how much space we need to fit the equipment and get into the cooler, remove the cooler and remove the toilet. So the upper shelves had to be removable. Again, a lot of calculating and recalculating, sawing and resawing, screwing and rescrewing. Mom said today that we've built this cabinet 3 times now 😳 But it's finally getting there. As of today, shelves are in and the stove has a place to sit. Good thing, too... 10 days till departure. Now just to figure out how the propane bottle for the stove will fit... unfortunately the shelf itself is not wide enough for it. 🙄 Who knows to figure in all these things from the beginning?! Not these amateurs. 

Curtains are still being figured out (again, no straight walls... and we're trying to do this so the set up is completely removable - no holes in the van! Current plan is PVC pipe into the garment hooks in the back of the van). Still a couple supports to put on the bed. Flooring to velcro in place. Cabinet to screw in place. A few other odds and ends... including a nice little paper towel holder on top of my cabinet. 

So you'll have to come back later for the big reveal 😄 The end is in sight and I'm looking forward to having a cute tiny space for 6 weeks. It's not a perfect design, but it's fun to know we created it ourselves and it will be functional and aesthetically pleasing. 

That last piece was important to me. It's going to be my home for 6 weeks. A space to relax, rest, commune with God. And in a life that often feels very transitional and occasionally that I have no home (hello...all my belongings in Prague are in storage), I appreciate spaces that I can feel safe and at peace. That I can in a way make it my sanctuary. So I maybe spent a little more money on pieces to make it look good, but it'll be worth it. I can't wait to show you! (and maybe more so, I can't wait to have it finished! 😁)

I Hope You Dance: a sabbatical journey

 Mennonites don't dance.

That's just the way it is, right?

I don't dance. I CAN'T dance. That's the message I've told myself.
I feel the awkwardness of moving. Self-consciousness. 
    Fear.
    Of what others think. Their judgement. Their snickers. 

    How awkward and stiff and unnatural I must look.
More self-consciousness. Added embarrassment.

And yet there was the dream of a little girl
        watching the Nutcracker, longing to move gracefully across the floor.
A dream of being a ballerina. A Christmas tree ornament beautifully dressed in a pink tutu to represent the dream. An expression of fluidity and freedom. Worship in the graceful movement of the body.

But the body is evil. 

Movement is suggestive. 

The body to be repressed and hidden. 

            ...Is the message received. 

And yet...

Dance is something I've been drawn to for a long time. For a brief period, it was brought to life at camp and college through square dancing and swing dancing – dance that had more specific movements I could follow. Because hey, I'm still fairly uncoordinated and feel unnatural moving. But specific steps – ok, I can handle that.

More recently, as God has been stirring more self-confidence, there's been a little voice in the back of my mind suggesting joining a class, exploring something new, just to see how it goes. To step out of my box a bit. 

And now, sabbatical. A chance to rest, retreat... and the space to try something new. Give myself permission to explore and be energized in new ways. And now, this includes a worship dance class. 

The obvious factors:

• I'm 20 years older than anyone else in the class

• I have NO dance experience, compared to the girls who naturally know what “2^nd position” and “releve” and “plié” mean

• I suck at picking up choreography. No, really. The instructor runs through a section once or twice and the girls have it, whereas I stand there stupefied and trying to figure our which leg needs to go where and which arm I'm supposed to extend...

In the midst of those factors, this is what I've noticed:

I made the effort to find and join a class. Even knowing what it would be like. Years ago, the intimidation itself would have prevented me entering in, or giving up soon after starting. The fear of not being able to do it. Of looking foolish. Yep, still have that fear. But this time I'm choosing to push through it and sometimes even laugh at myself. So what has God done in me to bring me to a place of trying, even with the chance of failure, or what may appear like failure? Obviously some pieces of affirming who I am, a rootedness that maybe wasn't present before. Enough to be in the studio with these girls who are capable and let myself look odd and untrained and just enjoy what I can do. To be ok with my inexperience and being where I'm at without self-judgement and without projecting my own judgement of myself onto others, that they're judging me, too. And to receive God's delight in the trying, the exploring and even the awkwardness. I sense him cheering on even the chaos of it. “Try again! Don't worry about the others; you make it your own and enjoy this process of creating with me.”

(*Side note, because of the fear of failing, in this I'm so thankful I won't be part of their recital in the spring – I would stick out like a sore thumb as I would lag clumsily 2 beats behind everyone else! And probably ruin the whole effect of the dance. But because I won't be part of the recital, it gives me release to try and not feel the stress of getting it right.)

I WANT to be able to express myself and my worship through movement. It feels like an added element of release and giving. Yes, I still feel more self-conscious than I would like. But I believe that in the process God is pleased with my effort. He sees and delights in my heart and posture. And in it is an expression of worship previously unaccessed. There are moments of discouragement and anxiousness in trying to pick up movements and remember them. But then there are the moments of joy in getting it, in being able to move, of learning a new routine and finding pleasure in it. 

The instructor has said that I have natural movement. I'm not sure exactly what that means, but I want to believe that there is something that God has placed within me to use. Maybe it was dormant. Maybe it was never explored, whether it was never given the chance or because my fear held me back. And I wonder: are there other pieces that God has stirred in me that I've pushed down or ignored because of what I tell myself? That I haven't accepted an invitation for? That I can't? That it's too risky? That I'll look silly? That I might fail? That... ? Or even other pieces that he just hasn't stirred to life yet?

And then I notice the invitations I receive:

Accept. Accept myself where I am, how I am. Without judgement. 

Freedom. Freedom to try, to explore. To succeed or fail. 

Notice. Notice what is stirring or has been stirred in the past that I haven't yet chosen to accept the invitation to. Haven't yet asked what's in it or what God might want to do with it. 

Enjoy. Enjoy being in the moment without criticism. Enjoy his delight in my effort and exploration. Just be. Just dance.

Unfortunately, I will be ending my class next week, because I'll be traveling and exploring in a different way in this sabbatical season. But I don't want to lose the freedom and the growth. Don't want to lose the courage to step out and explore without self-judgement. Don't want to miss out because I haven't followed up on an invitation. It's a process for me, but has been worth stepping out. What might your invitation be? 

I hope you dance.

 

I hope you never lose your sense of wonder,
You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger,
May you never take one single breath for granted,
God forbid love ever leave you empty handed,
I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean,
Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens,
Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance,
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance. 

I hope you dance... I hope you dance... 

I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance 
Never settle for the path of least resistance 
Livin' might mean takin' chances, but they're worth takin',
Lovin' might be a mistake, but it's worth makin',
Don't let some Hell bent heart leave you bitter,
When you come close to sellin' out reconsider,
Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance,
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.

I hope you dance... I hope you dance.
I hope you dance... I hope you dance.
(Time is a wheel in constant motion always rolling us along,
Tell me who wants to look back on their years
And wonder where those years have gone.)

                                                            Lee Ann Womack

Lessons from Maggie: part 2

 

Psalm 139
A rewrite for Maggie

1 You have searched for me, Maggie
    and you have found me.
2 You are at my feet when I sit and on my heels when I rise;
    you keep a close eye on me, never afar.
3 You sense when I am leaving and ecstatically greet me in coming home;
    keeping watch at the door until I enter.
4 Before I speak the words, “We're going running”,
   you know it and lay down in protest, but still follow because you can't stay away. 
5 You hem my days, curled by my side in sleep
   and lunging at my face as I wake (please stop).
6 Such devotion is too wonderful for me;
   too baffling for me to comprehend

7 Where can I flee from your presence?
   Where can I escape from you following?
8 If I move to another room, you are there, a silent black shadow sticking close;
    if I lay on the couch, you beg to lay beside me.
9 If I wander outside,
    if I trudge up and down stairs umpteen times to get something I need from upstairs,
10 even then your presence follows;
    you can't let me out of your sight.
11 If I say, “Surely the bathroom will hide me
   and I'm have moments of solitude,”
12 even the door is not a barrier to you;
    you barge in to find me,
    leaving everything exposed, but satisfied in knowing where I am.

Seriously, in the past months, especially as I'm staying with my parents in a much larger house than the space we have in Prague, Maggie has reminded me of the closeness of the presence of the Holy Spirit. It's somewhat comical in this house, her need to follow. Because I'm not calling her to follow; I'm often not even aware under she's suddenly by my side or sitting on the carpet in front of me with a toy in her mouth. I'm never far from her sight or her awareness. I leave the room; she immediately knows and follows, almost frantic to be close. But wow, a powerful spiritual image for me: the consistency and constantness of her – and His – presence. Her DESIRE to be close. And has challenged me in my attentiveness and awareness of his closeness and desire to be with me. 

(Maybe a better metaphor would be how much I am aware of and devoted to the Spirit's way as closely as Maggie follows and is devoted to me. But in the past months it has been encouraging to relate Maggie to the Spirit, simply longing to be close and with me, so let's stick with that for now and leave the other for another time. :) )

Longing to be invited up to the couch to sit close. Sometimes content to simply lay nearby on the rug. So happy with a look her way, evidenced by back end wagging, hoping for some affection. Rolling over in anticipation of a belly rub – despite the fact that she's 10 feet away and can't be reached! But the simple joy in the attention, joy in receiving a look that says “I'm paying attention to you”. 

Does the Father have the same joy and excitement when my attention is toward him? I think he might; that it does give him pleasure – those moments when I turn toward him and notice his presence. I glimpse his grin, his look of delight, face beaming to enjoy the moment with me and enjoy me. His joy in being seen. Because yes, I believe he has those desires to be seen and known - those desires in me are a reflection of his. 

I confess that I am not so faithful and constant as he: I'm so easily distracted, find other things to focus on, and go through the day unaware of almost anything. And yet his gaze is constant, his presence always close. Like Maggie, never letting me out of his sight. And waiting expectantly for that moment when my glance is also going to turn his way. 

Lessons from Maggie: part 1

 Since owning a dog, I've become aware of so many parallels of our relationship (hers and mine) to spiritual life. Maggie has taught and is teaching me much about myself, about God, his character and more. Sometimes Maggie represents me; sometimes she represents elements of God's character. I'd like to share some of these insights and so as not to be overwhelming, in chapters along the way. 

This is an image that was speaking to me today. And definitely still a journey in progress.

Maggie is very attached to me and when she can't find me, she becomes somewhat frantic. As in haphazardly trotting all over the place turning her head this way and that, obviously looking for me. Her movements are sporadic and anxious and also a bit entertaining. I wish I had a video of it, but it's not something I can capture (often I'm not seeing it since she's not in my presence, but I have seen pieces in situations where there are so many people around that she loses me). She'll continue this until she finds me - usually when I see her or hear someone else telling her where I am -and then I call her, she comes to me and immediately settles. Often just to wander away again. Sometimes to come to be petted and lay down. But knowing where I am is all it takes.

As I was sitting with God this morning and reflecting on “there is no one who always does what is right, not even one!... no one who seeks after God alone. All have wandered from God's ways” (Romans 3:10-12), I relate this to my own seeking. Looking frantically for that which will somehow satisfy my longings, my hopes and desires. Looking every which way for something to soothe. Sensing God's longing for me to find him in the searching; to find his presence and immediately be settled. As I watch Maggie visibly relax when she sees me, or curled up at my feet in utter contentment, I find myself longing for that same contentment, so often elusive. In the search for external peace, belonging, value, life, connection, etc., they never fully satisfy. And yet I continue to haphazardly grasp at what gives the illusion that it could fulfill. In my head, I know that the answer is Jesus; that in him is life and peace and belonging and everything else that I seek. But when it hasn't made it's way to my core or I forget the settledness I once felt with him, I continue the hunt. Hurried. Anxious. Attempting to find that one person or thing or feeling that will satisfy my restlessness in the moment. And futile. 

Until he calls out, reminding me to look for his face and revealing where he is, and I allow myself to receive and be settled. To breathe a big sigh of relief, just as my puppy does in her contentment.

beauty in broken

 The Japanese art of Kintsugi has been significant for me in the past years. 

Are you familiar with it? It comes from a tradition of seeing beauty in brokenness. Pottery that has been broken is repaired and put back together with an adhesive mixed with gold or silver powder, thus highlighting the cracks and making the end result more valuable than it was previously. 

Wow. To think that God may restore my brokenness into something more beautiful and more valuable. That's huge.

Then last week I attended a debrief retreat, reviewing and reflecting on the past few years, and toward the end of the week we entered the session room to find a small ceramic pot in front of each of us.  ➜

The task:
break the pot and put it back together in whatever shape or form we are led to, and then paint the cracks with gold or silver. All the while using it as a contemplative exercise, asking God what he might want to say through this process. I'm familiar with this art but have never physically done an exercise like this. So immediately I have in my mind an image of the pot broken in manageable 8-12 pieces, put back together to create a whole piece and beautifully outlined. You know, images like this: 

That's not what happened. I threw my pot (it was in a bag to keep pieces contained) against a cement porch, and it shattered. SHATTERED. Into umpteen pieces and shards everywhere. You can see my reaction here:

Very telling, my reaction. Dismay. Overwhelm-ment. Those visions of beautifully put-back-together pots immediately destroyed.  An expression of some of the things I have been feeling about life. And as I went through the process of piecing back together, God spoke in even more significant ways than I had experienced with this imagery previously. Because I had already been reflecting on feeling broken throughout the week. Already asking what glory God wanted to reveal out of the feeling of being pulled apart. So this was another piece of him speaking into what I was experiencing.

This is what I journaled:

Broken. Smashed. 
    Into many more pieces than hoped for.
    Shards, some impossible to piece back together.

Shock. Dismay.
NO!!!

Images of beautiful golden-lined pieces pieced back together destroyed.

Gather the pieces. As many as look realistic to jigsaw back together.

Overwhelm-ment. Is this even possible?

Hands gather two pieces. Try this angle. Try that.
    In my humanness, struggle with the puzzle.
    But the Maker knows exactly how they fit.

Regardless, patience.
    Glue, press together, lay it down, wait.
    This piece? No? This piece? No.
    Here's one. Yes! Progress.
        Ok, now this other piece fits.

Gently, patiently. Excitement in the progress.
Joy in the coming together.

Pieced back.
    Sometimes almost seamlessly, the crack imperceptible.
    Sometimes with gaps; missing pieces and missing shards.
        But that gap, that hole - that's where the light will shine through.

This is a process, this reshaping. Repair.

"Do you trust me? Trust that out of shattered, what is coming WILL be beautiful?" 

It doesn't look like it in the process.
It's rough. Raw. Slightly misshapen. The pieces don't line up.
    Obviously shattered and repaired.

But wait for it.

GOLD

Illuminating the cracks. Transforming them into beauty.
Highlighting imperfection. Giving it value.

This vessel treasured in the brokenness and reshaping.

This vessel a Masterpiece.

But this beautiful treasure is contained in us—cracked pots made of earth and clay—so that the transcendent character of this power will be clearly seen as coming from God and not from us.

2 Corinthians 4:7, The Voice

Hope for a weary world

 I was reminded yesterday of these lines from the beloved Christmas carol:

“A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices,

For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn”

We are a very weary world right now. A world desperately in need of hope. We need a reason to rejoice. Not just hope in a vaccine or an end to a pandemic, though those would be great. What is hope beyond that, and before that? A hope when it doesn't look like anything will change in the near future. A hope for today. A hope for tomorrow. A hope for health and wholeness. A hope for equality and justice for all. A hope for respect and grace in differences. A hope in the midst of a year of loss, of many griefs, of ongoing stress. The world is weary. So, so tired. There are likely few who have not been impacted in one way or another. We long for a new and glorious morn. Everywhere we read messages of readiness to leave 2020 behind; a longing to step into something new, to be able to take a deep breath of something fresh, to emerge into a new perspective and new physical circumstances. We are more than ready for it.

But what if it doesn't come, or doesn't come soon enough or doesn't happen in the way we want it to? In reality, we have not suffered like many from generations and centuries before us. Despite what Covid has cost us, it's not nearly the cost that others in centuries past and even currently throughout the world have suffered in disease, war, persecution and poverty. In reality, we don't have it that bad. 

And yet hope is crucial. Without it, we don't survive. I included a part of this verse on my Christmas card, because it seems so fitting for this season. We are all in need of joy, peace and HOPE. 

 May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.   Romans 15:13

This Christmas what does it look like to overflow with hope? To be filled with joy and peace? I've become very aware recently that joy and peace, and even hope, can coexist with grief and loss and unmet expectation. I do experience joy in my days; in the giggles and excitement of a 2 year old nephew over trains and chocolate. In Maggie's exuberant dashes around the snow-covered lawn. In long days of cookie-making with family, Christmas music playing in the background, tables laden with a plethora of delicacies, which I haven't experienced in 5 years. In the slowness of mornings and the way snow showers calm over my soul. In knowing freedom from condemnation. In grace in restoration.

At the same time I hold some significant aches:  Family that won't be together for Christmas. Not being able to meet my newly-born niece. Loss upon loss and unknown upon unknown due to Covid. Unmet desires for intimacy and connection. Questioning where I belong. Close friends who are on the other side of the world. 

    There is joy. 

    There is grief. 

    There is peace. 

    There is unsettledness. 

    There is desire. 

    There is hope.

Yes, there is hope that some of these desires will be met physically, in this world, now. And yet for true peace, I have to hold them all with very open hands. Not grasping, not demanding. But TRUSTING the God of hope to bring about his good. Trust in the future he has for me, not my version of it, whether that's tomorrow or next month, during this present season of Covid and sabbatical that looks different than expected, or 5 years from now. Trust in his love and his goodness, his faithfulness to his promises and to me. My part out of that verse is to trust. That's it. The rest is God's part – to fill with joy and peace which overflows into hope.

I long for the thrill of hope in which this weary soul and weary world can rejoice. Maybe right now, circumstantially, it doesn't seem possible. But internally it is possible because of Love. Love which was born to dwell among us. Love that experienced what we experience and felt what we felt. Love that was born to bring light to darkness and hope to despair. A hope in Love to conquer, that Love's desire is for joy and peace: between nations and families, between political and racial divides, between any relationship. On a world-wide scale and in every individual, in the interior and hidden places every heart.

Into what corner of your heart does Love want to spark hope?