home made

Love's been on my mind lately. More specifically, I've been mulling over the difference between real love and ideal love. While growing up, my mother always said, "You have to accept love the way people give it, and it's rarely the way you'd like." My grandpa bought me Ensure by the case when I was rowing in college because he thought I'd gotten too skinny. He never used the L word; he'd always tell me that he was proud of me.

I realize I'm expecting the wrong thing. Love is newborn awkward-- precious and cute but vulnerable and unruly. It's home-made awkward-- every batch comes out different. It's custom not standardized. It's humble and easily overlooked. It's quiet and gentle making it easily ignored. No soundtracks or sequins or capes to draw attention to it.

For instance, my mom helping me every evening for a week grade papers, plan lessons, organize reviews, pack, clean so that I could go to DC. Her willingness to give up her nights and join with me gave me the energy to plow through the work. And, I enjoyed myself so much-- knowing the cost sweetened the experience.

Then there's E's generosity in sharing her life and house to me for a few days. We shared the old parts of our friendship-- The Olde Brogue, walking, friends and ventured into new territory.

Or the most recent example is J-D and me planning and orchestrating the delivery of the outdoor table and chairs Mom purchased and deemed would fit in my station wagon. (Eyeballing it doesn't always work.) Two trips and 1.5 hours later the apparatus was on Mom's patio.



Then, of course, there's Good Friday and Easter. Nobody was expecting Love (or love) to be so vulnerable and powerful. We celebrate the grace of the cross with pastel bunnies and hot cross buns when it seems splinters and rare meat would be more apropos. Love is both fierce and vulerable, glaring and unpretentious. I'm learning love requires a interpretive mechanism. As I comb through some of my memories, I've recognized points of my history that were infused with love that I was unable to experience at the time. So often the proper responses to love are "yes, please" and "thank you".

This rumination on love also has led to thinking about how I love people. But, that's for another entry.