It is a bitterly cold snowy morning. I am reading Dr. Nancy Copeland-Payton's new book, The Losses of Our Lives. She writes of our yearning for the breath, light and love of God:
In the beginning God exhales in the darkness of a not-yet cosmos. Divine breath sends matter expanding outward to form the universe. But this is not a singular event. Sacred wind persists in sweeping over the waters of each not-yet moment.
In this divine out-breathing, we are created in sacred love. And in the way of creatures, we are conceived in human love. Love is deep-woven into our developing bones and sinews, our emergent mind and heart, from the beginning. If anything is our birthright, it is love.
Is this the root of our yearning? Do we long for the One who breathes us into life? Deep within our being, do we ache for our sacred birthright of love? ... Our small human voices call into life's darkening nights for the One we've lost. It is this birthright love, this first unconscious experience of divine love that echoes faintly for the three-year-old girl as she gazes on her newborn brother. "Tell me about God, I've almost forgotten," she whispers to the tiny baby boy.
O come, let us adore him.
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