"As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you.", says John 15:9, "Now remain in my love." Love keeps us in that abiding place, trusting that what we give in life flows more out of true love rather than our own labor. What we stand to gain by understanding and exemplifying this type of love goes much deeper than what you're about to read. My understanding of love grew out of the compassion my father exemplified in his life. Allow me to share my father's gift of true love and compassion, as I saw them exemplified through him.
Love was an ocean that flowed without compromise from my father. You would quickly recognize this metaphor as you gazed into the blue of his eyes. They aren't so blue that you would drown in them, but blue like the waters off Hawaii's white coral reef: clear, gentle, warmly inviting--even at a glance. If his eyes were all you saw, you would know when he was smiling because each corner would turn upward as if to kiss the sky, and his eyelashes would almost call you to himself as he blinked. You only had to look into his oracular face to discern exactly what he was thinking; it was obvious that love for others was on his mind. His high cheekbones gave his oval smile prominence, like a jazz musician who brings a dancing sound to his piano. I still remember the smell of coffee on his breath when he hugged me before leaving for work. I only wish his embrace lasted as long as his after-shave; in contrast to his evanescent embrace, his words of fondness clung to me until he returned. He always rescued me after an adventurous yet exhausting day at the amusement park, but his strong shoulders carried more than this tired young boy; they supported his family's fears and dreams too. He was a poised vessel upon unpredictable ocean waters. Such energy and compassion radiated from this man--my father.
His compassion extended to the very tip of his being, and through many examples he taught me the meaning of love. I'll never forget how he held me after I injured myself riding my new jet blue bicycle. A warm summer wind cooled the sweat on my brow as I peddled through our middle-class neighborhood. In my boyish effort to jump my bicycle up onto the curb, I misjudged its height; this caused my front tire to slide from underneath me. My body quickly spun to the left and slammed onto the sidewalk. My father was mowing our sun-damaged lawn when he saw my unsuccessful stunt; he immediately cut the power from the mower and ran to my aid. As he knelt down next to me and asked if I was all right, time, and everything subject to it, seemed to slow down. It's difficult to illustrate, but the way he cautiously placed his hands and arms underneath me, to bring me towards him, gave me such an elevated feeling of security. I could smell the sweat from my father's body as the summer heat continued relentlessly. His voice was calming and soothing as he compassionately eased my tears with his comforting words; contrary to his voice, I could hear his nervous heartbeat as it pounded rhythmically against his chest. He set me down on our sofa while he retrieved medication from the bathroom, but his embrace never left me. When my father returned, he washed my face with a cool washcloth and bandaged up my wounds; then, after kissing my forehead, he furthered his treatment by taking me to the local Thrifty store. We enjoyed a double scoop of our favorite ice cream.
These tones of love and compassion were always evident throughout my father's life. He carried them in his heart and they sang out through his countenance. Whenever you saw people in my father's house, with smiles on their faces and joy in their spirits, you knew that they had been in my father's presence. My father left me with an understanding of compassion and commitment, birthed through an illustration of true love. He taught me the love of God.
© 1999 james olmos
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