A small-built lady, dressed in a free-flowing skirt and tank top cautiously walked into the building. Mary’s blond hair swished with the shutting of the gold colored door. Her heart raced with eagerness and trepidation. This was the place she was to find it.
The gigantic warehouse room she entered was piled from floor to ceiling with stacks of books. She glanced around the first corner but there was no end in sight. “There must millions of books here. Or more!”
The enormity of the task threatened to overwhelm her, but she grabbed a book from the nearest pile and positioned herself to read.
With tears in her eyes, Sarah grabbed a hold of Michael’s shirt. “Please don’t go. I beg you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“Sarah, I can’t love you like I once did. You have changed so much since the accident.”
“No, Michael. I’m not the one who’s changed. You have. You used to hold me in your arms all through the night and whisper words of love into my hair. What happened to those times?”
“They were gone the moment you told me that you could not have children.”
“Michael, what is that have to do with our love? We can work through this. We can adopt.”
The hopeless look in Michael’s eyes brightened a little. “I thought you said you would never raise another man’s child.”
“For you, Michael, I would do anything.”
He wrapped her in his arms and cried. “Oh, Sarah, I do love you. I just needed to know that you would do whatever it takes.”
“Wow, now that must be love.” Mary thought as she shut the book. “But what about me? I don’t have anyone to share my life with and care for me like she does.”
She stood up on sore legs and walked further into the masses of volumes covering the concrete floor. “I could easily get lost in a place like this.” She eyed a brown covered book the size of a textbook. “This one looks interesting. Now, what does this have to say about love.”
Love is the means to an end. Although many people believe love is just a feeling that comes and goes with one’s moods, love is actually based on a chemical reaction in the brain that defines the barriers of one’s feelings. When a person is hungry, their brain tells them to eat. When a person is thirsty, their brain tells them to drink. When a person is in need of touch on the skin or a kind word, their brain tells them to love.
Mary closed the heavy jacket with a thud. “That makes sense…but what about Tom? He chooses to love his brain-dead wife. I’ve seen him tenderly caressing her vacant face with no hope of his touches being returned. There must be more.”
On and on Mary devoured the books one by one. After several hours of reading she threw her hands up in desperation. “This is ludicrous! I will never find love in all of this mess!”
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a heap of books laying in the corner. As Mary edged closer, the dust on the pile caused her to sneeze. “Maybe I should read just one more.” She settled down on the dusty floor and opened the creaking pages of an ancient manuscript.
It was too much. With all his heart he longed to communicate with his son. He stared at his bleeding head, his slashed back, and his pierced hands and feet before turning away. “Why do I have to abandon you now when you need me most?”
But he could not look. His perfectness, his holiness prohibited him from even looking at his beloved son.
The cry of his only beloved son reached his perfect ears , “My God, my God why have you forsaken me?”
In response his heart cried out, “Because, my son, I love the people in the world who can not be holy on their own. You have to die so that they can live and know my love for them.”
Mary’s heart beat with hope's anticipation. “If only this story was real,” she whispered to herself.
A rushing wind swept through the room and scattered the mounds of books. After the piles and the dust had settled, she heard the gentle voice of a Savior speak her name. “Mary. Mary, I love you.”
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