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.
___________________

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 last month I’ve been driving past a church sign that read, “How would you live your life if you only had 30 days?”

I’ve been meaning to write about that; it seems especially appropriate on the eve on NaNoWriMo, where I will devote 30 days to writing.

It seems to me that the 30 day constraint does two things for you, as a mental and emotional exercise. You stop focusing on the long term, and you start focusing on the big things, the stuff that matters most. As I know all too well from this year, none of us are promised tomorrow, only the present moment, and it’s up to us to live it to the fullest.

What’s my day normally like? I’m really, really boring. I get up, work out, work, hang out with the family, write, rinse & repeat. On weekends, I try to schedule one day for adventure – a hike, an outing with friends, or something fun – and the other day is for chores.

If I were eliminating those things which are no longer important, if I only had 30 days left, I wouldn’t need my job anymore. That opens up a whole universe of time! And, I wouldn’t necessarily need to exercise any more, it’s a long term activity, but I think I’d hang onto it for the mental health and energy benefits. I’d waste less time online and spend more time face to face with people.

What would I do instead? I’d try to spend time with those I love – my family and closest friends. As much as practical, I’d try and do the things I love, visit places I’m deeply connected to. I’d definitely write, I’d like to leave something behind that would survive me.

Would I try to make sure my paperwork and personal effects were in order? On one hand, I’d like to leave things organized – but on the other, who wants to spend precious minutes filing?

And back to the original sign: if I only had 30 days left, I probably wouldn’t spend them attending church. I would certainly try to make my peace with my Creator and my doubts and questions, but organized religion itself wouldn’t be a compelling attraction in that sort of urgent, limited time scenario.

I finally ordered myself a t-shirt I’ve been meaning to get for some time, since the UCF got one for amazon warrior woman Tania for her birthday earlier this year.

T-shirt available at ThinkGeek.

Where were you when the world stopped turning that September day
Out in the yard with your wife and children
Working on some stage in LA
Did you stand there in shock at the sight of
That black smoke rising against that blue sky
Did you shout out in anger
In fear for your neighbor
Or did you just sit down and cry

Did you weep for the children
Who lost their dear loved ones
And pray for the ones who don’t know
Did you rejoice for the people who walked from the rubble
And sob for the ones left below

Did you burst out in pride
For the red white and blue
The heroes who died just doing what they do
Did you look up to heaven for some kind of answer
And look at yourself to what really matters

I’m just a singer of simple songs
I’m not a real political man
I watch CNN but I’m not sure I can tell you
The difference ‘tween Iraq and Iran
But I know Jesus and I talk to God
And I remember this from when I was young
Faith hope and love are some good things he gave us
And the greatest is love

Where were you when the world stopped turning that September day
Teaching a class full of innocent children
Driving down some cold interstate
Did you feel guilty cause you’re a survivor
In a crowded room did you feel alone
Did you call up your mother and tell her you love her
Did you dust off that bible at home
Did you open your eyes and hope it never happened
Close your eyes and not go to sleep
Did you notice the sunset the first time in ages
Speak with some stranger on the street
Did you lay down at night and think of tomorrow
Go out and buy you a gun
Did you turn off that violent old movie you’re watching
And turn on “I Love Lucy” reruns
Did you go to a church and hold hands with some stranger
Stand in line and give your own blood
Did you just stay home and cling tight to your family
Thank God you had somebody to love

I’m just a singer of simple songs
I’m not a real political man
I watch CNN but I’m not sure I can tell you
The difference ‘tween Iraq and Iran
But I know Jesus and I talk to God
And I remember this from when I was young
Faith hope and love are some good things he gave us
And the greatest is love

I’m just a singer of simple songs
I’m not a real political man
I watch CNN but I’m not sure I can tell you
The difference ‘tween Iraq and Iran
But I know Jesus and I talk to God
And I remember this from when I was young
Faith hope and love are some good things he gave us
And the greatest is love

The greatest is love
The greatest is love

Where were you when the world stopped turning that September day

      ~Alan Jackson, “Where Were You (When the World Stopped Turning)”

I shared my frustration with my complete writers’ block with some writing friends, and the illustrious and published Dr. Phil (physics) had an excellent suggestion.

He had the privilege of attending the pre-eminent SF/F writing workshop Clarion, where they suggested an exercise of writing down ten short story first sentences in ten minutes. Write only the first sentence, don’t self-edit and free associate with anything you like to write about.

I tried it and was surprised with how easily and quickly I came up with ten I liked. In fact, I could probably do another ten tomorrow and just might. Here’s tonight’s haul:

1. When she came to, she was without memories, but barefoot, pregnant and fully armed.

2. The morning the cops came to knock on her door, she was wearing only her pajamas and VR headset.
3. “The radar’s not working and we can’t see a thing in this fog!” she screamed, as the baritone blasts from nearby freighters rattled their rigging.
4. He wasn’t sure he could dock a spaceship of this size, still, he had to; they were almost out of fresh water and the riots below decks had gotten out of control.
5. God, he missed his partner; flying solo, he was going to have to perform this emergency appendectomy by himself with no anesthetic that might blur his reaction time.
6. “Are you sure that’s a cat?” he asked, curious, as he stood up and brushed splintery scales from his lap.
7. As she completed the final cross connection, she smiled nastily; it was about time she joined the 22nd century and added remote launch and micro-targeting capability to her intercontinental ballistic missile array.
8. She sighed and signed the consent form. “Yes, doctor, I really do want functional gills and an amphibious metabolism; I don’t want to haul around a support team anymore.”
9. She lifted her chin as she strolled into the spaceport alone, bruised and limping, fresh holopics of her children tucked in her carry-on.
10. Was the incoming message chime real, or yet another hallucination, born of desperation, isolation and augment rejection?

Feel free to swipe this exercise for your own purposes. I’m sure Dr. Phil and the good folks at Clarion won’t mind at all.