"Would you have respected her sovereignty?" Helen replied. This time she didn't smile. "Would you have allowed anything to happen between you that you would ever have to be ashamed about as two human beings bound by a bond of love? But before you answer, forget about marriage. Too many married people do things to each other that a human being should never do to another person. This seems to be allowed in marriage. A lot of cruel things are allowed in marriage. People tear each other down. This is not truly in our nature as human beings. I think this happens especially in marriage, because the marriage institution literally prevents the development of love, it makes people enemies of one-another, it shuts down the process of embracing one-another on a basis of what really is true. That's sad, isn't it? So, Peter, I am offering you a rare chance to breathe freely again as a human being. I am offering you a chance to discover love, not to learn about it. But isn't this what you really had hoped to accomplish with Erica? Be honest about it."

      I nodded slightly.

      "Would there have been any danger involved for her or you if you allowed yourself to accomplish that?" Helen asked. "I want an unbiased honest answer that comes from the heart," she added moments later. "Would you have respected her sovereignty? Would anything have happened that would have violated that? Would you have allowed anything to happen that either of you would afterwards have to be ashamed about in real terms? I think the answer is obvious, you wouldn't have. You were more inclined to err on the side of caution. You would have done this even if this meant closing the door to being totally truthful with yourself. In a way, this is what you did. You avoided the dimensions that you couldn't fully understand. Am I correct?"

      I squeezed her hand in reply. "You know me better than I know myself," I replied moments later. "You are amazing!"

      "There is no magic involved, Peter. I just see us from a higher level standpoint, as human beings. That's all I do. That's all I can do. And what results from that often amazes me myself."

      I shook my head again. "You are right. Nothing would have happened between Erica and I that either of us would have had to be ashamed about. This wouldn't have been possible. I was too grateful for having met her, for having had the conversations with her that we had, and for the beautiful kind of person that she is. How could I have possibly hurt her or done anything degrading? I was so grateful just to be with her."

      "Can you say that you were grateful that she exists?" Helen asked.

      "I still am, Helen. This has never gone away or ever will," I replied. "She is still in my heart. Indeed, I am grateful that she exists, wherever she may be, even if I will never see her again. She has found a place in my thoughts. I am grateful for that. Do I make any sense?"

      Helen didn't answer no, or yes. She said something to the effect that gratitude enables sovereignty to be. "There is so little gratitude for one-another's existence. We take each other for granted, and in the process we loose sight of our humanity. Without gratitude our lives become barren. People talk about love, but they cannot conceal the ingratitude that causes those barren lives. I think your friend understands this too, though she doesn't want to admit it. That is also why she doesn't see the flower garden correctly. I remember a verse of an old hymn, Peter, which I have remembered for a long time. It goes like this:

      "A grateful heart a garden is, where there is always room, for every lovely Godlike grace, to come to perfect bloom."

      "That's beautiful," I said spontaneously, and was tempted to kiss her for it. I was going to say that this verse is as beautiful as she is, and more so because she said those words.

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Stories about  Healing from novels by Rolf A. F. Witzsche