It’s not Valentine’s Day, but for some reason got to pondering (& pontificating) about love, that word that sometimes stands us on our heads.
We think we want it, but all the work that goes in it, not so much.
Because love is about commitment. Not just butterflies in our tummies and hormone rushes, but the decision to love day in and day out.
Washing up together, forever? Through tough stains, crusted plates, and cracks that come. Perhaps a few shattered glasses?
Love continues despite it all – mending, tending, fending for one another. At times sparkling, at other times barely holding on.
Love keeps working at it, despite the strains that inevitably come.
Love keeps trying: making an effort, taking initiative, offering sponges of forgiveness when needed (and necessary.)
Love is not always easy, not by a long shot.
Letting go of me to become we.
But love, funny thing that it is, makes the world of our hearts go around and around. And keeps it spinning through ups and downs.
Love can take us to the highest peaks of our miserly existence, filling us with a sparkling joy that inspires, ignites and empowers us to do and be more, more, more.
For others. For ourselves. For Love.
Love can also leave us desolate and despairing when our loved ones are gone.
But joy, the joy of loving and being loved, this joy is a spark that makes life worth living. A spark that keeps our hearts alive in the afterglow when distant memories fill the treasure chests of our lives.
Love is a funny thing. It is. Indeed.
Pass that next dish. I’ll get the soap, you do the rinse.
Virginia : )
p.s. My parents were married 58 years before Papa passed, suffering 25+ of those years from a debilitating disease that left him a bedfast quadriplegic. Mama looked after him tirelessly. Papa called her his ‘care lover.’ You wouldn’t believe how mushy they could get, whispering sweet everythings to each other, not realizing just how loud their ‘whispers’ had become (heard clearly by minion daughter at the other end of the house during my caregiving gig.) Mama passed a year and a few months after Papa, but the legacy of their love lives on in the treasure chests of our hearts and lives.