God is: Love/Loving, a verb--not noun

091221 07:35
God is for all of us--what God is: Love/Loving, a verb--not noun, kind, merciful, far more forgiving of us than we, of, or for, ourselves--or even of another---or all Others.
In recognition my malevolent self-disregard, the failure to attend my ecology; smoking cigarettes, the use, and abuse, of women who loved me to the best of their giving. In my shame, the endless list remains, conscious, and never far from the heights of ecstasy.
Both extents held well balanced in my conscience.
Of my economy? Welcome to Club Poverty.
I knew the woman who died recently, in small parts--Mary Kroeger--but knew well, and loved/love still, the woman who knew her, more-or-less, from beginning to end--they were friends.
I am impaled upon the counter spike of remembrance; e.g. Rod Steiger in “The Pawn Broker.” I, in that memory, know another small measure, yet significant pain, of the crucifixion.
Ask, and you will receive.
Focus, dedication and conviction for the next, whatever, moments, or eternity.
Mary Kroger was a glorious, intelligent, vibrant and desirable young woman born of a schizophrenic mother. The mother won in the end. Mary died alone and ignored by such as remained of her family; so misunderstood was she as a consequence of her mother’s tutelage of, and in, insanity.
Why was it not me?
I have no authority to diagnose the degree or kind of my mother’s rage yet I bear the stripes of it upon my soul.
I am too ignorant of doubting Thomas and Jesus, their last encounter after His crucifixion, and resurrection, to quote chapter and verse . . . yet in the mention, i am there.
For the meaningless, neglected death of my friend’s best childhood friend . . . oh yes! I remember now breaking bread with her . . . and though she bore no remarkable beauty then, I well remember her shy charm . . . and gratitude while stuffing left overs in her pockets.
To say I will remember Mary in my prayers, is to announce the expected--and anticipated--ritual response. It is the nature of my love to embrace her daily in the mirror of my heart . . .Rest easy  Mary as I am sure you do.