Shot of Love

I’ve had this stone heart for a long, long time and I keep it on the table next to my bed. It was found along Route 6 near the Wyalusing Prayer Rocks in Northern Pennsylvania. Once, many years ago, it fell to the floor and broke into several pieces. This upset me greatly, not only because I love it, but because I’m very much into symbolism and was afraid it might be a portent of things to come. My little son was in the room when it went crashing to the floor. When he saw how sad I had become he quickly picked up the pieces and said reassuringly, "Don’t worry, Mommy. I can fix it."

 Full of confidence, he left the room with my broken heart in his little hands. A short time later he returned with my heart all put together and almost good as new. In fact, it was better than new, the cracks gave it added dimension and I loved it even more because the symbolism had now been elevated to a higher, more positive level. The entire experience was beginning to feel holy. "How did you do that?" I asked."

"Crazy glue," he said, as if I had asked a silly question, and then he ran off to play. I was incredulous; stunned by his beauty and his innocence, seeing him in a whole new light.

I was shot by love. It was a real happening. A revelation.

My child had become my guru.