If you’ve been to my house you know—I’ve got Star Wars things everywhere. Seriously—blankets, magazines, clothing, trinkets, baby toys. It’s all over my Instagram explore page too—and we all know that blasted thing doesn’t lie. So when I say I love Star Wars, I mean I love it.
The saga has captivated me since I was six. It was the subject of my earliest imaginary adventures and the cinematic home of my first crush (episode 4 Luke Skywalker was dreamy as hell don’t fight me). But as much as it informed my childhood, my favorite thing about it—the most impactful thing really—surfaced in my college years. At the onset of the hardest season in my life.
The title for episode 7 was announced (and the return of Star Wars made official for me) in November 2014. That’s when I was smack dab in the middle of a rough recovery from my first endo surgery and being told the things they found in my pelvis looked very much like cancer.
Easy breezy life as I had known it was disintegrating in front of me & I was being propelled against my will and out of my control into a new existence marked with constant, awful pain and unexpected isolation.
Needless to say, the timing of the saga’s return felt like more than a cool coincidence. It honestly ignited joy in my soul while physical comfort and security was being stripped away from me. It was a cosmic hug—and the first time I made the connection that God’s love for me was very particular. Specific to who I am.
This was God speaking to me in *my own* language.
This was the thing that pulled Him/Her out of the cosmic “up there” and into the seat across the table from me at the coffee shop. This was “Emmanuel” very much with me in my pain, handing me a bouquet of the things I loved most. (Lightsabers, space westerns & droids, baby.)
If I could tell anybody one thing forever, it would be this:
God/The Divine Mystery loves each of us particularly and radically and writes us Love Letters on the regular. Just check the dang mail.
Maybe your divine love note looks more like music or an unexpected bloom in your garden or the light-bending miracle of photography. Whatever instills awe or wonder and pulls you outside of yourself—that’s the thing. That’s your note.
Receive it, read it, recall it as needed.
And with that, I’ll end things.
Today, may the force
the love notes
be with you.