Monday, August 1, 2011

This is love.

I saw an essay contest in a magazine recently centered on the topic of love. I think the prompt read something like "when did you understand the meaning of love?"

I am a hopeless romantic, so naturally the question stuck out to me. And of course the idea of writing a beautiful story and winning the prize helped ;o) I'm also a deeply reflective person, so I've been pondering on love lately and what it really means.

In this world, this age, we have a shallow understanding of love, if we have an understanding at all.

To most people, love is fleeting, its an impulse...its temporary. The word is tossed around like fresh dough at a pizza shop. We play it up in movies to be an elaborate, overwhelming, dreamy state of bliss between two people, and yet we are quick to throw it out with the garbage in real life.

We say we can fall in or out of love, like its a matter of chance and we're a leaf being tossed around by the wind.

We tell people around us "love ya!" and then gossip about their lives to the first person to listen. We thrive on broken friendships and manipulation on reality tv.

I think we've lost touch with the meaning of love.

I have experienced love in the most incredible way over the last few weeks. It seems that really tough situations tend to bring out the best in people. Is that why we have them? So we can remember whats important?

Before my dad passed away I knew I had a loving spouse, and family and friends that cared about me.

When my dad passed it was like being swept up in a tornado. The flurry of things that had to get done and still need to get done when someone passes is nearly overwhelming. It'll make you crazy dizzy trying to keep up. And as arrangements and decisions were whirring around me, I was enveloped in a calming peace, I could feel myself being supported, lifted up, and even carried by countless hands. Hands that made meals, hands that covered my shifts at work, hands that hugged, and loved, hands that prayed, hands that were just there, hands that wrote loving messages, hands that drove many miles, hands that donated, hands that organized 20 years of life into an estate sale, hands that sweated through the estate sale,

hands that moved furniture and flowers, hands that were an extension of God's hands, His provision, His comfort and His strength.

This is love. A selfless pouring out of all that one can offer to carry a struggling brother or sister through a storm.

1 comment:

  1. You write so beautifully, Crystal. Thank you for sharing this.


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