Dear Heavenly Father – teach me not how to pray. Rather teach me how to Love.
For if I know How to Love – I will know how to pray. Teach me Heavenly Father.
”When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying:
Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.” Matthew 5:1-12
Is this Love, Heavenly Father, is this All?
”No, my child. This is not all.”
And He recalled a story I heard when young. Of a village far away from mine. A time before mine. Of a wife with a cruel and heartless mother-in-law (of the husband I knew nothing, nor of their circumstances or living – simply this brief tale).
How the wife went to the village healer. On her knees in great pain, she requested of the healer a poison with which to kill her mother-in-law. A poison to take the life of her tormentor. A poison to act quietly and without sign. The wife could no longer live under the burden of her mother-in-law. And the healer enquired of the wife. Enquired the reason why one should live and one should die.
Satisfied of her daily weeping, her constant pain, her endless and never ending agony of living – the healer asked the wife to wait. That he would provide relief, and left her sobbing whilst he searched his potions.
He returned with a small bottle of clear liquid. Liquid the wife was to rub into the mother-law’s skin each night before the mother-in-law retired. Each night for two weeks. No harm would befall the wife, this potion would only act upon the mother-in-law. With profuse thanks, the wife secreted the bottle in her cloak, counted out the agreed number of coins and departed.
One week later the wife returned. Again the healer welcomed her. The wife was agitated. The potion had not yet acted to take her mother-in-law’s life. And could the healer provide an antidote to reverse the poison before it did. Again the healer enquired why the wife now wished to reverse the agreed course of action.
He listened calmly as the wife explained their nightly ritual of rubbing in poison had – instead of hardening the wife’s heart – softened not only the wife’s heart, but also the heart of her mother-in-law. This nightly ritual had changed all, somehow had changed the unchangeable. The wife could no longer wish her dear mother-in-law the agony of poisoning. She wished her alive.
Again the healer asked the wife to wait, again returned with a small bottle of the same liquid, again told the wife to rub her mother-in-law’s skin each night. And again the wife counted out the coins, thanked the healer and quickly left – this time with the urgency of love.
”It is never all. It is simply changing the unchangeable where you find it. ”