Love

Everyone has a favourite band or artist.  For Merril and I that is a group called Switchfoot.  They are opening for Bon Jovi in Europe.  They are great musio’s.  We have all their albums. 
Well, that is not quite true.  They have a new one out.  It is called Native Tongue.  I learned a bit about it.  The title comes from a song whose words say, “love is our native tongue.”  What I really like is, they do not pretend.  They call a spade a spade. 
It would be so easy to say love is all sweetness and light.  Thankfully sometimes it is.  Sometimes it is not though.  Although it is always a choice, sometimes a choice is all it is.  I guess that is why one of their songs says “love is the hardest art” and that “love is surrender.”  Sometimes, the feelings just do not go with it, but it is always right.  I’ll admit it though, for love that is built on more than emotion, I really need help.
I reckon Merril driving me to appointments is love.  Me lifting her sugars when I would really rather be doing something else, is love.  My brother looking after someone who could not look after themselves, that is love.  It is great to aspire to and express love, but to me love is more meaningful when it is hard (I never look for hard - it finds me).
On the wall where I volunteer, is a print out of something someone on Facebook put up.  It says “in a world where you can be anything, be kind.”  I could replace kind with patient or humble or loving I reckon.
Aspiring to something implies it has not been achieved.  Certainly, I have had enough love to want more.  I appreciate water more, because I have known dryness.  I appreciate health more, because I have experienced sickness.  I appreciate winning more, because I have gone through loss.  I appreciate love more, because I have seen hate.
I am a sucker for Pixar movies.  I watched the end of Walle again.  The people on board the spaceship lived a life of ease.  They had become complacent.  The got what they thought they wanted (implied only), and when they got it, they did not want it.  They had to fight for what really mattered.
To me, love is a bit like that.  One day it will be all there is, without the complacency.  Right now, that is not the way it is though.  Someone said “love is a doing word.”  It sure is.  I fail, but I press on.  I reach for it.  Fighting and love seem like words that are mutually exclusive, but to me they are not.  Sometimes I need to fight.  I would prefer not to need to, but sometimes I do.
Have I perfected loving?  Selfishness proves no.  Intolerance proves no.  Unreasonable fear proves no.  However, just because I have not arrived, does not make me think the destination is not a good one.
When I learn a new skill, I fail a lot.  Failure is a que not to give up but to try again.  When love comes easy great.  When it is hard, I may say great though clenched teeth, but love always does everyone good.  If I can love, that is the best I can do for myself and everyone. ​