All that My children want is to be loved and to know without doubt that they are loved and, also, that they themselves are a medium of love.

Everyone is seeking proof of love. Everyone has his old stuff to deal with, and everyone would love to love the world and everyone in it. Meanwhile, so many find it necessary to be shown love before they can give love. They need to see love everywhere and feel love directed toward themselves before they can believe they are loved and that love is theirs. Meanwhile, they try to follow the trail of love.

Many have not found the world a safe place for their hearts. Their hearts have been compressed. the way foam rubber is compressed when it is sat on. The imprint from compressed hearts has to be removed, and then all hearts will swell with love. It is as simple as that. Love perceived is the precursor to love given. Until you perceive love given to you, you have not received it.

It is incumbent upon you to know My love. Love is love, yet there is no stronger love than Mine. We can say that there is only My love steeped in the hearts of others. My love perceived undoes the chains around absent-seeming love passed on from generation to generation. The thought of lack has been passed on. Now it is for you to pick up the dropped stitches of love and weave them back into your genes and reinstate love on Earth. Love does not have to be reborn. It needs to be seen and nodded to. Love mounts the world and runs away with it. Over hill and over dale, love rides, love ventures, and love is revealed, and love overtakes itself and delivers itself to the world that has feared love is only a phantom ship passing in the night.

Odds are, beloved, that your heart too has been compressed. Now focus on easing others' hearts. In the process, your heart will be eased. A heart that gives love is eased. An uneasy heart is not giving love. An uneasy heart is on the outskirts of love. Eyes seek love and envy it, covet it, and distress it. It is as though love were an escaped prisoner. "Where has love gone?" the wounded heart asks. "Where is love to be found? And will I ever find it?

The heart says: "I must have known love because I have seen it disappear. I have seen love far-flung. I have seen love flitting about, yet love has eluded me. Love may have struck up idle conversation with me, and yet it has not captured me. I am a vagrant heart. I am a vacant heart. I am on the loose. I am like a cat on the prowl. I look for love. I find glimpses, and yet the glimpses are but a mirage, a mirage always just out of reach.

"Love has been a toy on a string, and just when I get near, it is pulled away from me. I chase it again and again and come near only to be put at arm's length. I have fantasized love and yet never quite found it. I have feared that love was only a myth. I have feared that love is a river I cannot go down.

"I paddle a canoe on a lake. I go round and round, and the lake goes nowhere. I am stranded on an island called Not Love Yet. I do not know in which well love exists. I make false turns, and yet love calls me. Now, I begin to think that the call to love is the proof of it."