True, Heartfelt, Loving Kindness

by Giselle Renarde

My mother recently told me about something that happened when I was a child. There was some kind of workshop for parents at my school. The leader asked everybody to write down five things they enjoyed doing, but none of those items could be family-related.

While everybody else wrote their lists, my mom sat staring at a blank piece of paper.

The workshop leader came over and asked what was wrong.

My mother said, "I can't think of anything to write. Everything I do is for my kids."

"Well, what do you do for fun?" the leader asked.

"I spend time with my kids."

"But non-kid things," the leader said.  "Do you take time just for you?"

My mom didn't understand that question. She didn't understand the concept of ME TIME.

"What about reading?" the leader asked.  "Do you ever read a book to relax?"

"No..."

"What about friends?  Do you go out for drinks?  Have a girls' night?"

My mom didn't have friends, aside from other parents at my school. And everything they did together involved us.

The workshop went on, but all my mother remembers was the fact that she had no interests.  Twenty-something years later, she told me she felt like a non-person, in that moment.  "What kind of a person doesn't have even ONE thing that they enjoy in life?"

I actually think it's sweet that my mom's joy came from us, her children.  It showed.  She never told us to quiet down or give Mommy a moment.  I don't remember ever feeling like our mother resented us being around. That must have been because there was nothing else in the world she wanted to be doing. She just wanted to be around us, because we were the most important thing in her life.

Is there anything in my life that I would call THE MOST IMPORTANT?

The usual, I guess: my family, my girlfriend, my cats, my career.

But that one THE MOST IMPORTANT thing is rather more nebulous. It isn't a person or a thing.  It's more like a feeling. It's kindness--which probably sounds weird, coming from someone who regularly swears at strangers (but, honestly, why do so many people try to run me over? and if a jogger shoves me into a mud puddle, oh yes, that jogger WILL be called an asshole)...

What was I saying?

Right. Kindness.

I don't always live up to my own ideals, but when I do, I make a conscious effort to treat everyone I encounter with the same big love I feel for my family. I see no reason not to. Sometimes it's really easy, but often it's a challenge. Many humans are not friendly. That's when I need to redouble my efforts, because the people who are meanest to me are probably the ones most in need of kindness.

True, heartfelt, loving kindness is important.

That's not a bad answer, eh? 

On that note, I've got a new anthology on the market and I'm giving ALL my royalties away. I'd love it if you could help me spread the word about LGBT Love:

LGBT Love
10 Queer, Trans, Bi, Lesbian and Gay Romance Stories
by Giselle Renarde

***All royalties from the sale of this anthology will be donated to charitable organizations supporting LGBT individuals and communities.***

Barnes|Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/lgbt-love-giselle-renarde/1122642963
Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id1038917868
All Romance Ebooks: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-lgbtlove10queertransbilesbianandgayromancestories-1894075-166.html
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0155ZIXXU?tag=dondes-20
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/LGBT-Love-Lesbian-Romance-Stories-ebook/dp/B0155ZIXXU

Disciple

By Lisabet Sarai

“Uh—oh—oh—uh—uh—uh, uh, uh—ah—yes, oh, yes, uh—aaah!”

“You all right, honey?”

“Oh...oh, yeah, I’m fantastic. Just need a bit of time to recover. Thanks, Miriam. That was sensational—as always. You’re still the best, after all this time.”

“That’s sweet of you, Sh’muel. We each serve according to our separate gifts.”

“He say that?”

“More or less.”

“You knew him, didn’t you.”

“Very well. Intimately, you might say.”

“So...what was he like? Putting aside the hype and all? How did it feel when you were with him?”

“Cherished. Beloved. Enveloped in warm, nurturing light.”

“You were special to him.”

“Everyone felt that way, Sh'muel. That was his gift. Total, unconditional love. Perfect compassion. It didn’t matter who you were, what you did for a living, what country you came from or what gods you worshiped. What so-called sins you had committed. He loved us all. We couldn’t help loving him back.”

“Even Judas Iscariot?”

“Of course. Poor Judas might have loved him more than anyone. Most of us were too selfish to fulfill the master’s will. We wanted to keep him alive, with us, so we could continue to bask in his incredible light. Even if that undermined his ultimate purpose.” 
 

“It must have been hard to let him go.”

“Torture. I wept non-stop for two weeks. It felt like my heart had been torn from my body, leaving nothing but a vacant, echoing gap. I wanted to kill myself, to tell you the truth, but I knew he wouldn’t approve. It took a long time before I understood that he really wasn’t gone at all. That his light could never be extinguished—unless I allowed it to be.”

“I’m—um—kind of surprised you went back to your old profession. Afterwards, I mean.”

“His mother never liked me. She never felt I was good enough for her precious Yeshua. I don’t blame her. We all have our flaws, our blind spots. Anyway, I didn’t feel comfortable with the direction the disciples were taking. Celibacy just doesn’t suit me.”

“I’m grateful for that!”

“I’ll bet you are, you old goat!”

“So, tell me Miriam—what about the sex? Was it different? Better than with an ordinary man?”

“You want me to kiss and tell? Naughty boy! I keep your secrets—I’ll certainly keep his. But I will say this—he was as lusty and eager as anyone else. Not the pale, emasculated, passionless figure that some of the communities worship these days. He was flesh and blood, full of juice and joy.”

“What do you think? Was he really the Messiah?”

“You know, Sh'muel, I don’t really care. All I know is that everyone he touched was changed for the better. His love kindled ours. We wanted to please him, honor him, and so we tried, in our own poor imperfect way, to be like him. Each according to our gifts. Speaking of which...”

“Mmm—oh, that feels so good!”

“Looks like you’re ready for another round, honey.”

“Oh—ah—oh, God, I’d love to, but until next month’s harvest, I don’t have the shekels to spare.”

“It’s on the house, honey. Because you’re such a loyal customer and such a sweet guy.”

“Ooh—oh, Miriam! You’re a saint... What can I do in return? Can I give one of next spring’s lambs?”

“Just feel my love, Sh'muel. Feel it, and pass it on.”