The Immutability of Love

God said:

Whenever you ask the question "Why?" relative to personal life, you have made a judgment, or you have taken a ready-made one. Whenever you ask "Why?" about events in your life or another's, you are belaboring something. The question "Why?" is your protest veiled. "Why?" is a recrimination. When you say, "Why did this happen?", you are really saying, "How, God, how could You do this or allow this? How could You!"

You reproach, My dear children, because you have misunderstood what has happened. You are dazed. You feel you have been hit with something, and you feel the weight of the blows. You have built a fragile world that comes toppling down because an object in the world is moved from one seeming place to another.

When you stand as a bulwark to protect your territory, you are at the mercy of the wind. When you kneel, you are less blown. That is the moral of the story of the willow and the oak.

Of course, the real myth is that you think you own that which you do not and do not own what you do. Give to God that which is God's. All are in My keeping, not yours. And you are in My keeping.

Other Human beings do not belong to you any more than you belong to them. You are passers in the night and in the day. You are all like the sun that rises and sets. The sun comes to you, but you do not own it. You receive its light, but it is not yours to keep. The sun is always shining, but you do not always feel its rays. It is always there, yet it seems to come and go.

Your family and friends are in your life only so long as they are. Everything does not stay as it is. Or it would not be life.

There is greeting in Human life, and there is parting. So it seems. The greeting is real. The parting is not, but you believe in parting. You believe that your loved ones depart, or you depart. You believe that death claims you, and that you are gone. Or death claims another, and you are left.

That is what bereavement is — belief in loss. But you cannot lose that which is not yours to own. It just moves to another screen of life, one perhaps out of your sight, but only for a while, only for a while until you consciously meet again. Even in what you call death, there is not parting. The other's presence becomes more like My presence. You cannot touch it, but it is powerfully there. Love is untouchable.

Events in life do not belong to you any more than the people in it.

Even your life is not your own. Only your interpretation is yours. Your life is not meant only for you, for you are part of a far greater tapestry. You are a thread of life as is everyone, and threads weave in and out.

Why is death of the body such a shock to you? That which is inevitable comes as a surprise.

But it is not for you to be thinking about the absence of loved ones. It is for you to be thinking of the presence of love. Consider the meaning more than the fact.

There is great meaning to everyone and everything in your life, and the meaning is love. That is all it can be. Not love to accrue, but love to free. Nothing stems the flow of love. Love on the physical plane is only one aspect of love.

You are a free atom of love, and you come across other atoms of love. Together you are love. And moving on, love you are still. Do not deny that which you are. Love does not get wounded. Your heart is not divested. So do not divest love from your heart.

Love is a given. My love is a given. Love is always with you. My love is always with you. The love in your heart can be stirred, but not emptied. Fill your heart with My inestimable love, for it is given to you to outlast everything else.

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Why?

Whenever you ask the question "Why?" relative to personal life, you have made a judgment, or you have taken a ready-made one. Whenever you ask "Why?" about events in your life or another's, you are belaboring something. The question "Why?" is your protest veiled. "Why?" is a recrimination. When you say, "Why did this happen?", you are really saying, "How, God, how could You do this or allow this? How could You!"

 
This seems irrefutably so. There is another "Why?" that is simply curious, but the "Why?" God is speaking about here is clearly protest. I imagine I know how something ought to be, and when it is not that way, my "Why?" accuses or condemns.

But everything I miss, be it people or better circumstances or even my Self, is around the same way God is around. That's nice.

Even in what you call death, there is not parting. The other's presence becomes more like My presence. You cannot touch it, but it is powerfully there.

 
Everyone, alive or not, and everything, manifested or not, is around, just for the most part filtered out by my preconceived notions and "Whys?" and judgements and thus not reaching my awareness. Untouchable as love and as real as love.

Conclusion: When I love, all will be as I long for it to be.

Well, thinking about it, that's common sense, isn't it?