It's Sunday morning and I'm on my way to church. Stopped at a red light, I watch a long line of motorcycles cross by, each with a colorful toy fastened to it. This is the day that a local park hosts an annual motorcyclists' toy drive for needy children. It's always a sweet picture—many bearded, leather-jacketed, tattooed riders on this tender mission of mercy. But today, the scene is especially poignant. Yesterday, this community learned that a local boy had been brutally murdered. I heard a grieving neighbor tearfully ask, "What is happening to our children?"

Our children, she had said. These moments of communal love for children point to the instinctive awareness people have that we are all one family of the one Parent, God. It underlies the care strangers so naturally have for one another's children.

When my infant daughter passed on suddenly many years ago as a result of a drowning accident, the incident was reported by a local newspaper. I was amazed at the outpouring of concern from the members of my community. At that time I was a new student of Christian Science, and I was learning that God cherished me, and that if I kept my thought open, I could recognize the evidence of His love everywhere. As the public reached out with kindness, I realized that God's love is reflected by man, and that the numerous ways people were showing their affection were expressive of the infinite nature of God's love.

I felt totally surrounded by divine Love. It was the palpitating love of God that motivated all those around me into loving acts. The awakening to the activity of God's love operating on my behalf in this way helped to heal me quickly and permanently of grief. I was learning that because love is of God, it is not a commodity that leaves us with the passing of a loved one. It is a perpetual treasure in our experience, showing itself in unlimited and often unexpected forms.

One way God shows His love is to bring us to an understanding of some truth that we'd never realized before. For me, it was an improved understanding that loving relationships have their permanence in our perception of each other's spiritual identity—as seen through the spiritual qualities one expresses. The spontaneity, animation, ingenuity, and joy that Emily conveyed were so much more indicative of her true nature than anything physical. This helped me to get a better grasp of her spiritual identity. This precious idea could never really die, for her true being evolved from and remained in God.

The following statement by the Founder of Christian Science, Mary Baker Eddy, was a great comfort to me. Although it refers to Jesus, I found it supported what I was coming to understand about the true nature of man: "His unseen individuality, so superior to that which was seen, was not subject to the temptations of the flesh, to laws material, to death, or the grave. Formed and governed by God, this individuality was safe in the substance of Soul, the substance of Spirit,—yea, the substance of God, the one inclusive good" (Miscellaneous Writings, p. 104).

During this time, many people shared the belief that now my daughter was in a "better place," as if her passing brought her closer to God. However, if what is called death drew us nearer to God, Jesus would not have raised the dead, or, for that matter, healed the sick. The work and example of Jesus proved man's eternal closeness to God, our heavenly Parent. There never was and never could be a time when either my daughter or I could be beyond His love. And since we existed in the same realm of good, forever, we truly could never be apart. I felt the assurance of God's love cradling us both, and I knew I'd never grieve for her again.

Inspiration also opened my eyes to the new opportunities I had to share the mother-love I had been prepared to give to my daughter. Besides my son, who was still with me, there were so many other children, big and small, everywhere, in need of care. As I loved them, I felt satisfied and at peace. New relationships formed with other children and have continued to this day to be a blessing.

Why was it, ultimately, my own expression of love to others that brought the greatest comfort? The life of Christ Jesus gives the answer. As Science and Health says: "Through the magnitude of his human life, he demonstrated the divine Life. Out of the amplitude of his pure affection, he defined Love" (p. 54).

When we are expressing goodness, we are expressing godliness. Love expressed is a comfort to us because it is proof positive of God's ever-present love, and this is the love that heals grief. God's love is endless, unconditional, and has no favorites. It was through this love that Jesus was able to heal. As we, like Jesus, individually convey divine Love to others, we feel lifted by its activity and expression. We prove that we already include all the love that we think we need to get from others. If we feel lonely, we can choose to be a fountain of love to all those around us. We can humbly ask God to guide us in our desire to share the spiritual affection needed to soothe the wounded heart. In this way, our own blessed relationship with God becomes more apparent in our experience.

"Love cannot be a mere abstraction, or goodness without activity and power," writes Mrs. Eddy. "As a human quality, the glorious significance of affection is more than words: it is the tender, unselfish deed done in secret; the silent, ceaseless prayer; the self-forgetful heart that overflows; the veiled form stealing on an errand of mercy, out of a side door; the little feet tripping along the sidewalk; the gentle hand opening the door that turns toward want and woe, sickness and sorrow, and thus lighting the dark places of earth" (Mis., p. 250).

It always feels good to do good. As we express the spiritual love that results in "lighting the dark places of earth," we, too, are bathed in that light and are healed.