I’ve heard it said. I’ve even said it myself. But I have been blessed with an intrinsic belief that it doesn’t matter if she remembers -- I will.
In all my interactions I become part of what I call the sacred triangle.
I am not by any definition of the term a mathematician, so I am not
talking (I don’t think) about the Sacred Triangle that requires excessively
deep thinking in the Geometry department. There are many kinds of sacred
triangles: mathematical and philosophical. And there are religious triangles:
the Holy Trinity or Godhead, the shape of our steeples, our hands pressed in
prayer. But this “relationships triangle”
is pretty simple.
Two points of this sacred triangle
are constant – they don’t ever change.
The third is a variable.
The two constants?
One is God. And one is me.
The variable is the person
with whom I interact.
My presence with another human,
whether or not I am engaged and consciously present, automatically invokes the
sacred triangle. I’m not sure if the Divine Maker himself is actually there, or
whether He sends a representative angel, or some heavenly filmmaker whose
assignment is to make a movie of my life, to be shown in the final seconds
before my flight back Home. I am,
nonetheless, confident there is a divine force at the tip of that triangle. And
it radiates and connects to me and the others with whom I share time, energy,
and space. My husband – my children -- my
friends – even the clerk in the grocery store… all of these are points on a
collection of sacred triangles.
Yesterday my sister and I drove 350 miles
through thick February fog to Blackfoot, Idaho to visit our 95 year old Aunt
Mae, knowing when we got back in the car to drive home, she would likely have
forgotten we were just there. It didn’t matter.
We knew we were there. And so did God.
Our interactions with each
other change us, whether or not we realize it.. Certainly it was our love for our
aunt that compelled us to drop everything and go, just like we had done last
week and the week before. But we could
have logically convinced ourselves that since she wouldn’t remember, why do it?
We went, in the long run, not
as much to make a statement to our beloved aunt, but to make a statement to
ourselves, and our God, concerning our aunt. It’s the same reason we visit our
mother’s grave. Not so we can connect with our mom. We know she is not there. We go to make a statement to ourselves, and
our Lord, about our mother.
So here’s my hope for the
ones I love: That we remember the divine nature of our earthly
relationships…with all humans…with all creatures. That we recognize our
relationships involve energy exchanges, for good and for bad. And that simply
showing up is the first whisper of love we give to each other, to ourselves,
and to our God.
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