It is not difficult to think of all the ways You love me, but what would You say shows I love You? I don’t know what You’d answer but, if I did, it would be an epiphany of insight.
I would guess that what You’d say would be more insightful of my heart. The answers I might imagine You saying would run something more like: the routine daily “hug” of the Mass, these letters I write You, mindfulness of Your presence during the day, spiritual reading, morning and night prayers, centering prayer, contemplation – these are the things I would initially think You would mention if asked: “How do You know I love You?”
But the more I reflect on these answers the more apparent it becomes that these are not the answers You would mention at all. They are all merely motions and do not go deep enough to really answer the question. The heart must be probed for that. What, more deeply in me, moves me to these motions? Whatever that is, is what You would answer to the question: “How do You know I love You?”
Maybe things like my obsequious desire to seek You in a variety of places with constant persistence; or my idealistic hope that others would want to do the same; or the desire to be one with You – these are all matters of the heart and are more likely the answers You might give.
But the mere fact that I am putting words in Your mouth here proclaims my actual ignorance of what You might really say. Maybe You know I love You because I try in spite of my self; and my self is a big obstacle to me. I take little joy in the guile and pettiness of my busy-self which, nonetheless, pervades what I would wish to be for You. My joy is in You, in Your love and mercy for me, and my hope rests in that joy.