Morning blinding flash of the obvious: I can know God loves me by the burden I feel I'm bearing...for that feeling is God drawing me close.
It seems most of us can say in all truthfulness that we are not afraid of dying; it's our projection of the way we may die that causes us pause. Whether most of us say that or not, I certainly think that.
With that in mind. it occurred to me that I might die at peace if I could let go of my martyred-me, i.e., the mud on my ego's tires. Those rues, regrets and remorses which were not my fault, were my fault but I didn't mean to, which s/he caused and I got blamed for, which I caused and s/he got blamed for, etc., etc., etc.
What I have learned, or am learning, is that we can make peace with these things, make amends for our part in them, rise above them, accept that we will never rise above them...at three o'clock in the morning of our unconscious despair, they can sing our song as if it were a symphony.
Accepting that my martyred-me will never get cleaned up to my reasoning mind's satisfaction may be freedom.
I'm guessing there will necessarily be mud left on all our tires when we die. Since we were not perfect persons in our walking, talking world, and no one is, why continue to hold to perfection as our standard for dying at peace?
I can know God loves me by the burden I feel I'm bearing...for that feeling is God drawing me close.
Thank you.
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