It was a kiss of tender, pure love. Our two elementary-school children looked on reverently. And so did all the other pool-side sunbathers who witnessed that unforgettably sweet moment when two hearts melted together.

Our family had been quietly observing this white-haired couple all week long during our vacation at Sanibel Island, off the coast of Florida. The wife was apparently recovering from a stroke. And it seemed obvious that the two had come to the small beachside inn for more than just the beautiful scenery. They'd come to recuperate. To be alone. And to make a new beginning in their life together.

Each morning and afternoon, this couple spent a few hours by the pool. They'd just sit in lounge chairs and watch the rest of us swim. From time to time the husband would tenderly brush a hair out of his wife's face or get her something cool to drink. Then, after a while, they'd leave—hand in hand.

We were happy to see that, day by day, things got better for the wife. Sometimes she'd get frustrated, though, that she couldn't move around as freely as she wanted to. And when her husband gently tried to persuade her to take a little dip in the pool, she'd shake her head and say "No!"

One morning, though, it was different. Slowly—and holding ever so tightly to her husband's arm—she descended the three or four stairsteps into the pool. The small group of poolside regulars watched in hushed appreciation. The husband was beaming. But suddenly the wife froze in terror. And she started to cry.

That's when the husband, right there in front of all of us, put his arms around his wife and kissed her. It was the kind of kiss that says everything—but without words. The kind of gesture between married partners that wipes the years and tears and fears away. Instantly, the wife's courage returned. And she smiled at her husband with such love.

Over the years I've thought so much about that couple—and the love they shared. I've thought about the husband's pure desire to help his wife, and her pure desire to respond to his care. I've thought about their mutual desire, and determination, to go forward together. And I've thought that these desires had something holy about them. Something almost prayerful. Something that goes way beyond anything you could find in the most romantic movie imaginable!

I never saw the couple again after that week at Sanibel Island. But somehow I've always known that their hearts' desires were fulfilled. Surely their unselfish love for each other—a triumph in itself—would lead them to more triumphs as they faced the future together.

There's an ancient poet in the Bible who believed that strong love—and the strong spiritual desire that's often behind it—can overcome just about any adversity. "Many waters cannot quench love," he wrote, "neither can the floods drown it" (Song 8:7).

But what if a desire isn't spiritual? What if it's self-centered or sensual or destructive? What if it's based on a drive for power or money? Or on a crude desire to get what we want—when we want it?

Of course, a lot of people think such negative desires are natural—and inevitable. Biochemical researchers say that it may not be possible to resist such destructive impulses. It's claimed that they come from abnormal levels of a certain brain chemical, and that all this is genetically predetermined.

According to this theory, "broad swaths of the population may be genetically predisposed to drug abuse" —including addiction to alcohol, caffeine, and nicotine. Researchers also suggest that compulsive eating, gambling, and other aberrant behavior may be associated with the same genetic deficiency.^{J. Madeleine Nash, "The Chemistry of Addiction," TIME, May 5, 1997 .}

But there's good news. A growing number of thinkers are saying we don't have to be victimized by self-centered, compulsive desires. One of these is social critic Vincent Ruggiero. He complains that bookstores rarely carry books that teach us critical thinking and "mindbuilding." "Instead," he says, "their shelves are lined with innumerable volumes counseling absorption with self, the infliction of self on others, and even self-divinization—yes, there are books that explicitly say, 'You are God; worship yourself.'"^{Vincent Ryan Ruggiero, "Thinking instruction in the 21st century: a proposal" (City News Publishing Co., 1994, Vol. 60, No.22 ).}

So what does someone like Vincent Ruggiero feel that people can do to stop being self-worshipful, self-absorbed, self-indulgent? How do we control negative desires? Mr. Ruggiero says we do it by thinking, rather than letting our emotions guide us. Others add that spiritual development and support groups can strengthen people to resist compulsive behavior. ^{TIME, Nash .}

Still others, like Christianity Today writer Tim Stafford, say the way to control "deep, helpless desires" is to put God first—ahead of ourselves. "Desires do not go away," he explains "simply because we want them to.... They do fade into the background, however, when a greater desire replaces them."^{Tim Stafford, "Getting serious about lust in an age of smirks," Christianity Today, January 10, 1994 .}

That "greater desire" for the good and pure and noble—for God—is what real desire is about. Desire that is strong enough to withstand adversity. To overwhelm desires we don't want to have. And to heal.

This real desire, this passion for good, actually comes from God because He is good itself. He makes all the good that ever was or will be. And He makes each one of His children good.

So it's natural for us to feel attracted Godward. And it's unnatural for us to feel contrary compulsions. Because whatever is contrary to good is unknown to God in His totality, His pure excellence.

Going with our natural urges toward good—that's what prayer impels in us. And the more we desire good, the stronger our prayer is. The more instantly it calms and heals.

Now, maybe you and I aren't yet feeling this kind of spiritual desire. Or maybe we're not happy with the desires we do feel. That's OK. We can, with all our heart, ask God to help us. And He will. Our very asking is an urge toward good, toward God. And it's the first step toward letting God answer our prayer. From there on, He will help us do the rest. As Science and with Key to the Scriptures by Mary Baker Eddy explains, "Desire is prayer; and no loss can occur from trusting God with our desires, that they may be moulded and exalted before they take form in words and in deeds" (p.1).

It may take a lot of courage to trust your desires to God. But if you try it, you'll be so pleased with what happens! Bit by bit, you will find your desires transformed by God. He'll make something holy of them. He'll give you courage to go forward, even in the face of trials. He'll help you find healing and happiness beyond anything you could ever imagine.

Mary Metzner Trammell