LOVE'S CHILDREN--HAPPINESS



As the Thorn Protects the Rose, My Pen Preserves Our Love


LOVE’S CHILDREN--HAPPINES

I was daydreaming today, my Dearest, about Love’s children.

Imagine if Love had children?

Who would they be?

What names would they be called?

What would their mission in life be?

Perhaps one would be named Happiness.  Another Joy.  Beauty would be another choice.   One might carry the name, Passion. 

Let me share my daydreaming with you about one of Love’s children—Happiness.

Would Love’s child named Happiness search the world for the sad and lonely and sit beside them, whispering in their ear how wonderful life could be if they smiled and danced and learned to Love themselves and others?

Is it possible for Happiness to wedge its way between the weight of sadness and loneliness, and for a brief moment, grace the tortured soul with Hope in the future?

I thought about this today, my Love, because I honor the quality of our Love, and wish everyone in the world could share what we have.  But sadly, this isn’t true.  And that’s why I thought long and hard about Love’s Children, and what impact they could have on this world.

Let me first share my thoughts about Happiness.

Can you imagine a lonely child lying in a cold bed, hungry, frightened, her mind drained of all Hope and Belief that there was a sunrise on the horizon and Happiness slipped into her room and knelt beside her and began telling her stories about the magic of life?   What if this child were to listen to Happiness, and despite the pangs of hunger and scars from abuse welted on her frail body, she was swept up into the world Happiness described, and as she closed her eyes to listen to the story of wonderment in a land filled with laughter and joy, the hunger wrenching her body faded, and the cold of night was replaced with a sense of warmth, and the sores and scars crisscrossing her abused frame were erased, replaced with a smooth, gentle flow of sun-toasted skin and scented with lilacs?

Happiness.

For one small moment, this ravaged child entered the world that Happiness created.   And instead of a grimace, the young girl’s face softened and the corners of her mouth turned up into a gentle, satisfied smile streaked her face.   And even though when Happiness was forced to leave the girl’s side, and the cold, cruel world in which she was tethered to returned with all its ugliness, the girl could hold onto that Moment of Happiness she experienced the night before.   And, like a treasure coveted by a child, she stuffed that memory into her pocket, clenching it into her fist so that no one could take it from her.   Then, when night came or the hand of abuse or whip of hunger pained her body, she shut her eyes for a brief moment and relived the stories that Happiness had told, and was whisked away from the brutality of her existence into a world where Love made all things possible, and the arms of thousands wrapped themselves around her in caring comfort, to remind her the Hope was the fuel of survival, and that one day she could find the same endless Happiness that Love’s Happiness had gifted her but for a moment.

Of course there are many other chores that Happiness could easily perform.   But her biggest of all gifts would be to teach the child to learn to Love Love, and believe in Love, from the inside out, so that no external force or circumstance could rob the child of the knowledge he or she was Loved, and that on the Horizon of Life burned the star of Hope.

I am tired, my Love.

My inkwell is thirsty.

With your permission I will write more about Love’s Children tomorrow, or the next day.  But for now I ask you to pray for the Happiness of all children, and I hope that one day when we have our own, they will all be Children of Happiness.

Forever Yours,

Cyrano!

Anderson-McKenzie


As the Thorn Protects the Rose, My Pen Preserves Our Love

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