Flow of Love

A thoughtful family member placed a card in my hands after her Mum’s service, and inside there was a steamroller badge. My eyes filled with grateful tears, and I placed it on Tim’s desk when I came home. This morning, he reached across and popped it into my heart dish, saying,

‘It’s your turn to have the love for a while.’

In the midst of all that is happening in the world, returning to the flow of love is comforting.

We usually carry spiders back outside when they find their way into our house, but instinct stopped us when a large black one appeared on our stairs a few weeks ago. He spent a week on the stairs. Then, we discovered him in the bathroom, and he was back on the stairs until he decided to take up residence in the corner by our front door. We’re careful not to vacuum him up and say a few gentle words in his direction each time we pass. We don’t feel he’s well, as he’s made a tiny web and rarely moves. It feels loving to just let him be.

The summer heat is rolling through our days, and in the quiet of late evening, we have been watering our garden. The bees are busy flying from flower to flower, and I found myself researching which plants they love and planning to plant more. Every day we replenish our bird bath, and the wasps and the birds have been coming to drink in the cool at the end of each day.

I love the sounds of our neighbourhood in the evening. It has become a nightly ritual for one of the dads to round the children up from their play and biking, and make sure they are all safely returned home. It’s like watching the Pied Piper as they go past, usually with one lass still chatting at full stream. Tim and I find ourselves looking up when we’re gardening, and she has magically appeared at our sides. We tune in to find her in the middle of a story, completely unfazed that we have probably missed the beginning of whatever she is sharing. She is unstoppable, which leads me to share a story I witnessed the other evening.

The children love playing down on the pathway, behind our homes, which was the old steam railway line for the colliery. The sides of the embankment are covered in trees and shrubs, making it the perfect place to play, hide and build dens for adventures. I looked up to see them heading down the steps, and the lassie was in the middle, talking nineteen to the dozen. It was obvious that the boys had had enough and wanted to adventure in peace, so the youngest lad was straight. ‘Go away,’ he was repeatedly saying, followed by her name. His tone was clear yet gentle, and the lassie dropped her head and carried on. I guess her logic was, if they can’t see me, I’m alright. The youngest lad, who is only six or seven years old, stopped walking, and so did the group. He turned up the street, knocked on the lassie’s home door, had a quiet word with her dad, who called his daughter home.

We can hear the children on the old railway, but they are out of sight unless an adult goes down there, so I stood for a while as my heart appreciated the loving way that laddie handled a tricky situation. It could have played out in many different ways, but his direct and gentle choice ‘headed trouble off at the entrance to the pass’, as the old saying goes.

My heart felt for the young lass as she went home, but there is more to this. We have discovered that she has no filter or awareness of reading situations. Her need to talk and share carries her forward to talk to anyone; delivery drivers, mechanics and valeters who provide a service on driveways, builders and tradesmen, anyone who lives or is visiting here. We all keep an eye out when we’re outside, and for the most part, she’s with the other children as they all play together. We have developed a way of telling her gently and clearly when we need to be quiet because we’re concentrating or in need of peace, and she’ll move on.

One evening, I looked up at the procession of children and right in the middle, our lassie was in full flow, and the rest of the weary and dusty children were walking with her, silently. I stood up to see a dad at the front, wheeling a little scooter, and as our eyes met, we both smiled with shared understanding.

It reminded me of the bees and wasps cohabiting and sharing the resources, without stinging each other.

💛