Memories Of God

One of my mother's most amazing characteristics is the way she has always valued and created beauty, even at a time in her life when such valuing seemed to threaten survival. In this, I know my mother to be the image of God. Not only has God created all things beautiful from nothing; this is no more than we would expect. In those country barns, my mother recognized broken pieces of furniture for what they were and she paid for their re-creation by going hungry. In the same way, God as our mother recognizes the beauty within all the broken and discarded parts of ourselves ...

It is hard to explain to a loving person who can only give, what the refusal to receive does to would-be givers. If our gifts come out of the substance of who we are, to refuse our gifts is a rejection of our very self. At the same time, the turning away of a gift destroys the reciprocity of love. In place of mutuality, it sets up a hierarchy of love that makes the one who always receives and whose gifts are refused feel empty, powerless, and incompetent to love well, and so unable in turn to receive from the beloved with a grateful heart.

I am not sure at what point I realized that the man whom I had seen as my all-powerful and invincible father not only wanted me as I am, but also needed me to stand by him through the long journey into his own death. My father needed my friendship. It still seems to me to be an astonishing gift of God's grace that in the last years of his life I was able to stand with him as his friend who was his adult child.