I believe many things, fervently, and it’s been hard to narrow it down to a single focus for this essay. Still, something I received via email a few days ago resonated strongly with me.

To give beyond reason, to care beyond hope, to love without limit; to reach, stretch, and dream, in spite of your fears. These are the hallmarks of divinity. ~ Notes from the Universe

I consider myself to be richly blessed, in both a spiritual and material sense. I have amazing family and friends, who shine more love into my life than I could ever imagine. I am financially comfortable, with a lovely home, reliable cars, health care, and a challenging, interesting, relatively secure career. I am healthy and happy, with a strong body and immune system and spiritual and emotional resilience.

In some ways, my life can be defined by the great losses, the hard things I have faced. And I am realistic; my ‘hard things’ are nothing compared to those of those who truly overcome in this world — those who have survived abuse and still shine, those who have conquered cancer, those who have come through disaster with only the shirt on their back and rebuilt.

Still, I have flailed in a painful, horrible marriage years past all wisdom, until calling it quits. I have parented a mentally ill child, with prayers and tears and 3am self-flagellation. And I’ve lost a beloved husband, the man I thought I’d spend the next forty years growing old beside.

The heartbreak that accompanied each fresh, raw challenge has helped define who I am and helped me discover, serendipitously, how very much I love the people I share this life with.

More importantly, those events have reinforced my closely held belief that, in our short span on this earth, our mission is to love fully and give freely.

I was hungry, and you gave me something to eat. I was thirsty, and you gave me something to drink. I was a stranger, and you welcomed me. Matthew 25:35

To those whom much is given, much is expected. If I see a need I can meet, then God has put it in front of me for a reason; it is my choice and my purpose to give, anonymously, quietly and generously. If I encounter someone who needs shelter, food, help, then if I can in any way, I am privileged to be able to provide hospitality, comfort and support.

Yet even if I am being poured out like an offering as part of the sacrifice and service I offer for your faith, I rejoice, and I share my joy with all of you. Phillipians 2:17

And on the spiritual plane, the same principle applies. If a friend, a colleague or a stranger needs support – a hand, a shoulder – I am happy to help. At every juncture in my life, I’ve been cared for by loving friends and family, whose encouragement and kind words have illuminated my way. If I can pass on a fraction of that light to those who cross my path, it is an honor.

Losing a husband, a life’s partner, reinforced how precious life and love are. Love those you have while you can, wholly and fully, without fear or reservation. Express your love actively, because none of us is promised tomorrow.

When I lost my father unexpectedly, ten years ago, I had the unusual opportunity to talk to him just a couple of hours before he died and tell him I loved him. I cherish that last conversation.

And when I lost my husband this March, I kissed and hugged him goodbye and told him I loved him that morning, as I did every morning. I will forever be grateful for that last kiss, and for that daily expression of love.

“To give beyond reason, to care beyond hope, to love without limit…” I believe we all have a purpose in life. To give and love freely – materially, spiritually, to family, friends and strangers alike – is mine.
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This I Believe is an international project engaging people in writing and sharing essays describing the core values that guide their daily lives.

Hot Chick^TM Janiece suggested participation in it; here is her contribution:
This I Believe 2010 – Janiece

The Incomparable Anne^TM also wrote candidly here:
This I Believe 2010 – Anne

This weekend, I joined inspirational ironwoman Stephanie at YMCA’s Camp Colman for a women’s wellness retreat.

We were going to hike, kayak, do archery, play outside, but Mother Nature had other plans – torrential rain, thunder, lightning, hail, and then some more rain.

Oh well – I did do yoga – and Steph got asked at the last minute to teach the yoga classes as the scheduled instructor couldn’t make it – and Sunday cleared up enough to go shoot a few arrows and walk around the lovely, if soggy, camp.

The cabins were warm and the bunks sturdy, although I’m not agile enough to truly be very thrilled about a top bunk anymore.

The food was stellar, and the lodge’s fireside room with magnificent Puget sound views a great place to write.

I am still behind on word count, doggone it, but I’m chipping away at it.

I had a conversation yesterday with an absolutely adorable, precocious, dynamic seven year old girl, an honorary niece of sorts. I borrowed her from her mom and dad, took her for a ride in my convertible MINI and conspired to buy her a bubble-gum cream granita. (Ewww!)

We were talking about her favorite subjects in school. (Reading and writing.) And books. And Halloween.

She solemnly assured me she believes in EVERYTHING.

Sea monsters? Yep. Regular monsters too.
Tooth fairy? Yep.
Ghosts? Yep.
Unicorns, fairies? Yep.
Aliens? Yep.

In fact, she wanted to ask me if I believed in space aliens coming down and landing in flying saucers.

I told her, “Of course, but some space aliens are HORRIBLE drivers and have all sorts of problems parking their flying saucers very well. That’s why they land in cities, or in the middle of herds of cows, and end up on the news.”

She liked this, and giggled a lot. Her next short story in writing class is going to be about space aliens who don’t fly their flying saucers very well.

My work there is done.

My son Zach is a high school senior this year. Lucky kid!

He appears to be enjoying it immensely. By my judgment, he’s not one of the super-popular kids at school, but still has a solid, genuine, positive and intelligent group of friends. He hangs with the geeks – they have LAN parties, gaming get-togethers and marathon Dr. Who sessions. I don’t think any of his friends drink, do drugs or sleep around; they may, however, get in trouble for trying to hack Microsoft someday.

This afternoon was one of many great small-town high school days. It was sunny, warm and beautiful. He and his friends met up at the school to play Ultimate Frisbee for a couple of hours, then variously piled into cars or hoofed it down the hill to Dairy Queen to hang out.

I remember my senior year, although it was an awfully long time ago. (My pet dinosaur hated being left home alone while I went to class.)

High school was not an especially happy time for me, although it got better as I got older. I was very young for my grade, just turning 16 at the start of my senior year. I didn’t have many friends, my family had issues, and I was quite likely clinically depressed. Still, I stayed busy – I was on a club swim team, in color guard, and an editor on the school newspaper – and got decent grades.

Being a senior meant open campus, and lunches at McDonalds or Taco Time with friends. It meant interesting classes – like Lifetime Sports, where I took rollerskating for a quarter, and racquetball for another. We had privilege; the closest locker assignments, the best lunch times and preference for the popular classes like photography and pottery.

In spite of my general malaise, I do remember a few wonderful times. We had awesome horror movie nights at friends’ houses, group trips up to Inspiration Point just to hang out together, a great night at homecoming with one of my best friends, ski trips, picnics, and a backpacking trip with my dad.

One night in particular stands out. Six of us piled into one car and drove up to Inspiration point. I did not drink, smoke, or date, and had a reputation for being straitlaced. A couple of the kids broke out a beer, and one guy – the driver, pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one up. Everyone groaned – no one wanted to deal with the smoke.

I said, “Hey, John*, let me see your cigarette!” He snickered, thinking ol’ goody-goody Jeri was going to try a smoke, and handed it back to me. I smiled, held it up to the group, then ground it out in the ashtray and tossed it out the window. Everyone cheered, except for John, who really was good-natured about the insult.

What do you remember about your senior year? Was it a good year – or was it painful?

*Names have been changed to protect the guilty.

In the past several months, I’ve been grateful for the tremendous, wonderful, caring friends that have gotten me through each day. I’ve been thinking about what they mean to me and have tried to put that down in words.

Friends will:

• care unconditionally
• cheer for each others’ successes
• laugh and cry together
• be comfortable companions
• relax and be crazy, silly & joyful together
• provide encouragement when each other are down
• offer practical help when appropriate
• serve as a sounding board
• listen without needing to fix things
• be kindly, gently honest & direct
• serve as a reality check when needed
• be positive, sensible, and open-minded
• inspire each other to be a better person
• dream together
• be partners in adventure

I strive to be this for my friends – often falling short – but I do love each and every one of you!

Feel free to add to this incomplete list in comments.