Astronomic love.

I’m not sure why I decided to tuck in my brothers the other night.  I never do – at the ages of nine and twelve, they are hardly dependent on being tucked in (much less by their big sister!).  But it struck me on a whim, so I went into their room as they were crawling under their sheets. This is the conversation that followed…

                I walked in and went to my younger brother’s bed first.    

                “Goodnight Eli,” I said, sitting on the edge of his bed.  “Sleep well tonight.” I leaned over and gave him a kiss on the forehead. Thank goodness, Eli is a dear and he’s not old enough to be grossed out by this behavior. In fact, he hung his arms around my neck and planted a kiss on my  cheek in return. 

                “I love you to the moon!” I said.

                “I love you to the end of the Milky Way!” he said with a cheeky grin – when you’re a nine year old boy everything is a competition, even saying “I love you.” (Actually, the syndrome of life-as-a-competition does not stop for boys when they’re eight.  In fact, it might not stop for them before they die…)

                “No wait,” he said, turning to his older brother.  “What’s that thing called?  That thing at the end of the milky way?”

                Matt is my older brother of the two.  At twelve his hobby is astronomy – and he takes his hobbies very seriously. (He may very well be smarter at twelve than I am at eighteen.) 

“That thing at the end of the milky way?” asked Matthew.  “Oh, you mean Andromeda.”

“Yeah!  That thing!” said Eli.   “I love you to Andromeda.”

Tickled at his adorableness, I smiled and ruffled his curly mop of hair.  Then I went over to Matthew’s bed and gave him a hug and kiss on the cheek.  He smiled tentatively with his dimples in a way that said, I’m a little old for that, but I might still like it.

In answer to his smile, I said “I love you to the moon, Matthew.”

And in his typical straight-forward way, he said, “I love you to M13.”

“M13?” I asked, puzzled. “What is M13?”

“It’s a galaxy.”

“Oh,” I said, still a bit confused.  “That’s cool.  Where is it?”

“I don’t know,” he said.  Then his dimpled smile stole across his face and he said, “But it’s farther than the end of the Milky Way.”

Somehow, to say that I only love these boys to the end of the milky way (an unimaginable distance), or to the incredible M13 (an even farther distance), to say that I only love them that much... would be a vast understatement.  

~

Hmm

This Post Temporarily Suspended for Further Editing. 

No Beauty In Defeat

(It was years ago and yesterday

When I lost you in the fray)

No one knew how you died, somehow I knew they always lied

It’s easy to hear whispers kept inside

I tried to stay away from you, on the day they buried truth

But I had to see them there, standing in the dew

It’s such a shame that you aren’t here, We had so much time – so little fear

But now all I have are my running tears

Nevermind the tears, try to forget the fears

There must something better… somewhere out there

You and I we knew it all, and we blew it all

We can live forever

In just one night

He said “life’s cruel, and it’s always been this way

“And I wish I could find a way to stay

“There must be a way to save , The world – what’s left out there anyway”

We were liars, we were young, and we were brave

But I knew what was up head, I knew where this path led

Because all the heroes that ever lived are dead

He tried so hard to quench the flames, But in his hands torches blazed

Life’s a cycle, and it’s sure as fire cruel

Nevermind the tears, try to forget the fears

There must something better… somewhere out there

You and I we knew it all, and we blew it all

We can live forever

In just one night

I’m living now in the ashes of the life we knew we’d have

The lights are out, the walls are crumbling down

It smells like slow dancing, fast heartbeats - There’s no beauty in defeat

No glory in a your silent renown

I’m not the same since that day you know

I’m know I’m right, I just can’t stand the sight

So I’ll try to fight the fires raging inside, And yet I know I cannot hide

The fact that I am following you down

Nevermind the tears, try to forget the fears

There must something better somewhere out there

You and I we knew it all, and we blew it all

We can live forever

In just one night

Life - Amplified

I think love is like life – amplified.  Everything is stronger:  pain, joy, fear, everything.

I don’t know what the rest of my life holds.  I’m not God – I can’t see that far.  But I do know this: if I search for perfection I will never be happy.  Ever.  People aren’t perfect, so the relationships they create can’t be either.  And I’ll always be half the problem (sometimes more!). But if I was looking for my perfect – the perfect that fills my holes, balances my weaknesses, and lets me be at ease in a way I didn’t know I was capable of before, well, then I’ve found my perfect.  

He is strength without crushing, he is laughter without derision.  He is kindness that I've hungered for.  He is more precious to me than life, and how do I know that for sure? 

Because I would die for him in a heartbeat.  

Love is worth it.  It’s worth fighting for, it’s worth appreciating, and it’s worth the frustration and tears that it brings at times.  Because even though those nights seem endless, and the morning dawns uncertain at best, I’d rather spend my worst day next to him than my best day alone.  Because everything will turn around, and he is the best reflection of Christ’s love that I’ve ever met in another human being, and I love him.  I can’t help but love him.  

Love is such a funny thing, but it’s completely and utterly worth it. 

The Lonely Dreamer

What a rascal you are! What a confusing creature!

Before I knew you, I thought I understood love. But I didn't - I had no idea.  Once I met you and came to love you though (slowly, over time), I learned what love really was. It was bread for the hungry and a smile for the heartbroken. It was pain that was worth it, it was joy that could be won no other way.

But now that we're comfortable, I learn once again that I know nothing of love at all.  I learn that everyone fights, everyone takes everyone for granted, every fire dies, and no one is truly always happy with their choice.

Can I accept that?

Or will I say goodbye and be a wandering poet, a lonely dreamer who will not sacrifice her vision for the truth.  Would I be a fool to refuse to lower to my expectations?

Or would I be a fool to lower them at all?

Another Thought

Sometimes I need to figure things out with myself before I can start being the type of servant I need to be. 

Desks (This Is A Metaphor)

     In my room there are two desks. One stands on one side of the room, underneath a window.  The other stands on the opposite side of the room, underneath a window of its own.  Through the first desk's window comes the morning sunlight, and after the day has passed, the second desk's window lets in the light of the evening sun.

     But I did not set out to tell you about the sun's patterns; I wanted to tell you about these desks.


     The first one looks exactly the same as it did the day it was purchased.  It's paint looks lovely and it stands there so strong and new - so pristine and fresh.  Every drawer opens smoothly, and every leg stands straight and steady.  It's a very beautiful desk.

     The second one is spattered with paint and ink.  It's original paint has been chipped or worn off around the edges.  Only three of it's legs are still standing firm - one of them is propped up against the wall.  It's in desperate need of some tender loving care, and it's drawers can barely shut they're so full of papers. 


     I said at the beginning that these two desks are identical.  And though they are identical in basic shape and form, the word "identical" is not really the truth anymore.  From the outside eye, it may seem that one of these desks is beautiful, the other is ugly.  One has been treated well!  The other poor thing has been misused and abused.  But here's something that not everyone sees: one of these desks is full of life. 

    So can you tell me which desk is the one to be pitied?


 ~ Epilogue ~

     So one day, I'll get sick of that regal yet lonely desk and I'll sell it.  I won't even care enough about it to move it gently - it will go in the back of my pickup truck and it will get smattered with bugs and wind. 

     I'll drop it off at Salvation army, where the smell of smoke will seep into the very grain of its wood.  It won't last too long though - it's too nice of a desk by their standards.  Someone will pick it up and they will get their every penny out of it and more.  They will use it and it will be lived in and it will, in time, earn its scars.

     So perhaps the one to be pitied in this little metaphor... isn't a desk at all. 

Young Love

Young love isn’t time tested.  You haven’t had the time to find reasons to hate the other person.  Or if not to hate them, to get really ticked off with them.  You’re still on the high of “This could work out!  This could be it!” You forget that with time comes sloppiness, sadness, anger, snot, snoring, jealousy, and all of the flaws that are our own and that we'll struggle with daily (or decide not to struggle with, but instead give in to).

Young love has it's perks.  See, when you're trying to win another person, you generally tend to try to be more understanding, forgiving, gentle, strong, kind, and thoughtful. I've been around quite a few loveless older couples who would benefit, I think, from just a little bit more understanding for one another. 

I'm not saying that there isn't a place for young love.  But I am saying that people should be more careful that they aren't participating in stupid, ignorant love.   I'm being blunt, but "expectation is the root of all heartache" (thanks, Shakespeare) and divorce is a heartache.  

A Thought

Sometimes I have a philosopher's mind, and my body rejects sleep in favor of thinking.

My body is stupid.  Sleep is my friend.

Sometimes I Drink Too Much Coffee

Why is it that it's sometimes the people we love most that we have the hardest time conveying our love to?  Why is it that it's our parents, our best friends from forever, sometimes even our significant others that we take for granted? 

I suppose the answer to this question can be rooted in something good.  We can get so comfortable around some people that we don't have to try and prove or buy their affection.  We know and are confident that we have it and yes, this is a wonderful thing.

But all the same, I think that we can take our favorite people for granted a bit too often.  Someone once said that in order to improve your gratitude towards something, then pretend for a moment that you've lost it.  If you aren't happy with your home, what if you didn't have a home?  If you aren't grateful for your spouse, then what if you lost your spouse?

Maybe this post is silly.  Maybe it spawns from the fact that I am writing a romance novel, or perhaps from the fact that my boyfriend is a firefighter who is often in situations that are full of danger, and I worry about him.  But on the other hand, maybe there's something to it.  The way I see it, there are so many things in life that we do in mediocrity and love shouldn't be one of them.

Call it foolishness, call it genius, call it youth.  But I guess what I'm trying to say is that we shouldn't always hold back from saying I love you.

TWS

"Their confidence in me is my greatest fear."

An Observance

Love is a funny thing.  It’s so universal, yet so specific.  People write poetry and songs and whole books in attempts to explain it.  I cannot claim to be as wise as the poets and musicians and authors before me.  So this is simply an observance.  

You see, there’s a him in my life.  How him came to be in my life is subject for a different post.  Yes, explaining him should be saved for a different post, a handful of poems, a few whispered songs, and perhaps even a book.  But in order to understand my observance, you had to know about the him.

That aside, here’s my observance.  Before him, I wore pony tails all the time.  I wasn’t comfortable with my hair - it’s frizzy and can be very untamed.  So I wore a pony tail.  Why the constant pony tails?  Because a pony tail is reliable.  I can grab all of my hair in an elastic and put it behind me where I and other people can't see it.  It isn’t going to get in my eyes, and I don’t have to deal with the risk of having unruly, unsightly hair all of the time.  I didn’t wear pony tails every day, but whenever I didn’t I was uncomfortable and insecure.  

But since him, I’ve stopped worrying about finding elastics.  I’ve stopped my almost-daily routine of pulling my hair back.  I’ve literally let my hair down.  Not because him told me to, not because him likes long hair, nothing like that.  Simply because being with him makes me feel like it’s alright.

I don’t think love is the same thing as romance.  I think love might be about finding someone who you are comfortable with regardless of what you look like, or how tired you are, or what your day held.  Someone who, when you let your hair down around them, both of you are still alright with yourselves and each other.  I’m learning to let my hair down.

And I think I like it.