Through a Glass Darkly

I recently met a man who owns rental property in another state. He told me a story of some tenants in one of his houses who painted the inside of all the windows with black paint. He and his wife had to laboriously remove it all before they could again rent it out.

In my current feeble attempt to stare down this despair, other voices are speaking of Love. I too am reminded of "these three that abideth". But what if you cannot access even love? I can't see out of the windows right now.

I did something -- actually several things -- for some people I barely know which I thought was good, and it was totally self-less on my part. In some ways these were the most difficult moments of my life, and it would have been so much easier, and better for my own family, if I had simply walked away. Now it seems I only caused more pain for them. I knowingly allowed myself to be used, believing it to be an act of kindness. The object of my selfless love is completely unaware of the ripples in space and time which resulted from my actions. Must I wait for death to see the results....the fruits of my labor?

In giving my love, sacrificially, I provided comfort even as I inflicted pain. It is an anguish I cannot bear. And it tears at my soul, because I do not understand it. I do not even know what love is anymore. I should have no debt, nor guilt, and yet there are demanding voices still at my door. Is this what love is all about? How can it hurt as well as heal? If it is the only true good, then why do I long just now for escape and release -- even from Love itself?

I hope that soon I will be able to see clearly through the window. I hope that I will not still be looking over my shoulder for a man I never knew. Until then, he can rest assured that no bad deed on his part went unrewarded, and no good deed on mine went unpunished. Call it Love, or call it Justice, but it seems to be the life I was born into.