To share love is the most precious gift…

I was born in a Petrie dish, over an open flame. My mother was a scientist who was logical in all things except in the understanding of how to love. I do not blame her, it was who she was. Somehow, though, with that beginning, my heart wanted only to love. Despite the bullying from her and many others, despite the rejections a-many, despite open hatred, I never have known how to hate, I never have wanted to be angry or vindictive. I wanted, always, only, to understand how to love. I suppose there has been an underlying hope that love could conquer all, and I still have that hope, unfortunately tempered now with the realism that not everyone is looking to be loved – at least not by me. A loving heart is not a magic key, that would allow me in to the hearts of any that my heart finds joy in. But their rejection does not extinguish that love – it remains, bittersweet, joyful in its existence, yet saddened by the circumstances. My heart looks only to find those who can rejoice in the joy I find in them, who can share my delight at finding them delightful, who can look with wonder at the awe in my eyes as I appreciate what I find awesome in their souls. The opportunity to share love is the most precious gift…

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