Late April is an aphrodisiac. Beauty is blossoming everywhere, pollinating hearts. Birds are serenading from somewhere in the trees. Lovers are loving, holding hands, locking eyes, lying in the grass under the spotlight of the sun, while time and space orbit around them. They are the kings and queens of their little plot of land in the world. With spring comes hope. And it is always a most happy occasion when hope and love are reunited. The two have always been dear friends to each other.
It seems that love phases through different seasons. There is the spring of love, when it's new and fresh and full of possibilities. It is love's genesis. It's when hearts come out of hiding, daring to dream again. The air is charged with excitement. Then, there is the summer of love, when love is fun and blissful and everything is in its right place. Its when love itself is enough to silence every other desire. It seems as though the euphoria and contentment will last forever. But then the autumn of love begins to set in. Things begin to look different. Colors fade, as an arctic wind whispers foreboding prophecies. The scent of death is in the air. The fire is sputtering. As this point, love's future seems uncertain. Then, without warning, winter falls and all goes dark. It feels as though God has turned his back. You feel as if you made a wrong turn somewhere back there. Hope is nowhere to be found. Your heart feels cold and numb, while praying to survive each moment. Heated passion turns inside out, and your best friend becomes your worst enemy. Life's winter is long and hard on love. But real love endures all things. Then, just when you think that all is lost, the sun breaks the spell and spring returns as if winter was only a bad dream. And love's cycle resets itself.
The other day, someone told me that their grandparents have been married for 60 years. That is a couple lifetimes, from my vantage point. I wonder how many times they've been through the seasonal cycles of love and come out on top. I wonder what advice they would have for me, as someone who has been married for zero years. I wonder how they would blog about love. I wonder if their love now exists in an endless summer, having broken free of love's spin cycle. I wonder if the word "love" means something so different to them that it might as well be called something else. I bet that they are very loving people. I bet that love has become a way of life for them, so much so that they don't even have to think twice about it, it's as natural as tying their shoes. I'm sure that they still go through winters, but I bet their love is unaffected by the changing winds. That reminds me more of God's love. Unchanging. Not seasonal. And yet I am far from that accomplishment. For now, I am sure to venture through the seasons of love, and in the dead of winter I will remind myself that spring is not that far off. Love endures all things.
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To me, the most beautiful and succinct picture of love between a man and his wife can be seen when two 80 year-olds who have been married since they were in their twenties are sitting on a park bench holding hands and the man leans over and kisses his wife on the cheek and she looks up at him with a soft smile and a twinkle in her eye.
ReplyDeleteHis kiss and her smile is the result of the culmination of years and years of weathered storms, of fights, of screaming, of storming out, of forgiveness, of making love, of raising children, of going on vacation, of knowing the other’s faults and shortcomings better than anyone else on earth and being completely ok with each and every one because they have made a lifestyle of continually and purposefully choosing to love the other no matter what. The resulting beauty of such commitment is the closest thing to magic anyone will ever experience. I’ve seen a glimpse of that in my grandparent’s marriage.
After grandma passed away I found myself sitting alone with the half of a man that was left behind but is still more of a man than I am. Then grandpa let me into a private corner of his life as with tear-streamed eyes and a shaky hand he removed from an old shoe box a dusty and yellowed bundle of letters that represented the bedrock of their marriage. These are the letters sent back and forth from them while grandpa was off fighting WWII. Grandpa was forbidden by the military to disclose his whereabouts but through a cunning system of embedded codes that would make even the CIA raise an eyebrow grandpa was able to keep grandma informed of his whereabouts and his well-being. As I read through those letters, I caught a glimpse of true love that day and it has stuck with me. (CS Lewis: "Love is not affectionate feeling, but a steady wish for the loved person's ultimate good as far as it can be obtained")
God provides fireworks to make young love interesting but later in life the smoke from the fireworks clears to reveal shooting stars, aurora borealis, nebulae and far-away galaxies. However, the original enchantment of the fireworks never really goes away. That’s the beauty of it. CSL says that one of the miracles of love is that is gives a power of seeing through its own enchantments and yet not be disenchanted.
As to: “I bet that love has become a way of life for them, so much so that they don't even have to think twice about it, it's as natural as tying their shoes.”
Man, I hope that’s true! So far for me though and my short 13 years of marriage I have found that I have to constantly be working on it. Constant maintenance is the key. It’s ironic that I run a home maintenance business in order to pay the bills while at the same time I have to perform “home maintenance” in my marriage. It takes no time at all for things to fall into disrepair unless they are constantly tended to. I have a hunch that this will not change no matter how old I get or how long I’ve been married but I could be wrong. One of the great gifts that God gives us through marriage is the opportunity for us to be shaped and changed into His image through “various trials”. Marriage is not for the feint of heart. Furthermore:
“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, and irredeemable.” CSL
Ryan, you always amaze me...so poetic and magical.
ReplyDeleteThe Chinese Philosopher Lao-tzu said "A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step"