What Would You Do If You Believed I Was Love?

Last updated on: September 6, 2021 at 2:30 am by Mary Pezzulo

What Would You Do If You Believed I Was Love? 2021-09-06T02:30:42-04:00 Mary Pezzulo

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Saturday we went to the beach.

It might be the last time this year. We can still swim indoors, and do whenever we have a few dollars for the rec center. But it’s nicest to go swimming at the lake.

It was warm, but the water was cool. The air smells and sounds like early Autumn. Early Autumn smells like dry leaves– you can smell the change weeks before you see it. Early Autumn feels like air that is warm while the lake is cool. Early Autumn sounds like crickets.

Rosie built a sand castle while I swam laps, back and fourth in front of the beach. At the beginning of the summer I couldn’t get across more than once, and now I swim across six times. I am becoming strong.

While I swim laps, I think about things. I think about blog posts I’d like to write. I tell myself fanfic stories with me as the main character. I pretend to give a lecture on topics that interest me and to take questions from an astute audience who always ask me just the questions I’d like to answer. I worry that I ought to be doing something more important than swimming. I worry that I’m not pushing myself to swim hard enough. I tell God the things that I’m thinking, and worrying about.

Sometimes it feels like God tells me a bit of what He’s thinking while I swim. Sometimes it feels like God is asking me a question.

Saturday it felt like He was asking, What would you do if you were absolutely certain that I didn’t want to hurt you? What would you do if you believed I was love?

If I believed God was love, I would go swimming more often and without wondering if I should. I would go swimming without worrying about whether I’d swam far enough.

We got chilly earlier than usual at the beach, so we rinsed off the sand and headed for the car, intending to go straight home like responsible people. But we are not responsible people. I slowed down when we passed the sign for boat rentals.

We paid back the shutoff notice by the skin of our teeth, moments before going out that afternoon. There are several more bills where that came from. I need a tank of gas if I’m to drive to my great aunt’s memorial service this weekend. Plenty of responsible things to spend money on. But this might be our last time at the lake while the dock is open.

“Want to go in a boat?” I asked.

Rosie did want to go in a boat.

Next thing I knew, we were trying to paddle a canoe.

I hadn’t been in a canoe in well over a decade, and Rosie had never been in any kind of boat in her life. I sat in the middle, laboring until my arms hurt, and she sat in the front, trying to help. Every once in awhile I’d actually get us going in the right direction, and then she’d dip her oar to help me and we’d spin around, which she found hilarious. We spun toward the spillway and then toward the beach, then toward the shale cliff by the cabins on the other side of the lake. Every now and then we’d stop to rest our arms, and listen to the water.