By Charles Towne
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach when feeling out of sight for the ends of being and ideal grace.
The above lines are often mistaken for something William Shakespeare might have written, but it is, in fact, part of a sonnet penned by Elizebeth Barrett Browning.
We so often whisper “sweet nothings” to the object of our affection, but is that all they are, sweet nothings?
There was a woman at the nursing home where my wife, Nanny, is a resident. The woman died. Yes, she died alone except for the strangers that came and went on their busy, ever-busy rounds.
I think that perhaps she died, more than anything, from a broken heart.
I remember her more from something she said than anything else.
Whenever I saw her, that tiny, frail form, with a hint of a sad smile on her face, sitting in her wheelchair, invariably located near the nurse's station.
She searched each face for a sign of recognition, for an acknowledgment of her being.
I smiled at her, and there were sad tears touching her eyes as she quietly whispered, “Will you take me home, please.”
I have arrived at the place where I recognize this as a plea of the human heart, “Will you take me home, please.”
I realize that it might sound trite, but the first time I set eyes on Nanny, this beautiful lady who was to become my wife, I fell in love, and the deal breaker was her beautiful smile! Yes, I was hooked.
Nanny has a son from a previous marriage. He and his family live in another state - son, wife, and three grandbabies. There is no contact.
I have been told that the reason for this is that she is an embarrassment to them.
An embarrassment?
This is the mama that gave birth to her son. She changed his diapers, fed him, and kissed away his hurts.
When Nanny and I were first married, her son told me, “She was the best mother in the world! I never doubted that I was loved.”
But now that she is ill, she is an embarrassment.
Your family member, your loved one, is still there. Mother, father. Husband, wife, son, or daughter, they are still there.
When you look into their eyes, who do you see?
Perhaps they are diminished in some way, but he or she is still there, still alive, needful of your love.
O Holy God, praise you, and thank you for your great love, for your never-ending mercy. Thank you for never turning us away and for being patient with us. I fear we are an embarrassment to you, and yet you never abandon us. This, to me, is a miracle beyond compare. Thank you, Father, and praise you. In Jesus' name, we ask it, Amen.
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