Love & Hope
I have never met a person whose heart doesn’t yearn for love. I believe by God’s design, every person’s heart has holes that only love can fill. From and through and by love certain emotions are triggered that enhance the beauty of life. Modern media, however, only magnifies the good things of love. We forget that true love requires patience like the forming of a baby in a womb. True love requires harmonious communication like the nerves in our system. True love is hard, and I’ve experienced it. Way back when, I met the love of my life. Our love was ordained. She had the charisma that would make any television host envious. Her personality was contagious like cooties in elementary school. Our love was special, yet, complex; but, continually rewarding. I don’t mean love in a superficial cupid-shot-me-kind-of-way; I willingly loved her, and she willingly loved me. We argued, we fussed, we cried, and we loved through emotionally confusing seasons. Although unspoken, we, silently, agreed and took a risk for love.
Our love was maturing out of an adolescent romance into one where people would announce the length of our relationship and the crowd would gasp in disbelief and applaud.
With the passing of each day, she revealed herself here a little and there a little. I followed suit. Over time we grew in intimacy, and I found myself distracted by a problem that followed her, and, inexorably, followed me. She noticed my problem as well and like the gnat flying into the flame she forged on, even when the flame raged into a forest fire. At the time of our discovery of each other’s problem, we had yet to reach the apex of our love for one another. Our love was maturing out of an adolescent romance into one where people would announce the length of our relationship and the crowd would gasp in disbelief and applaud. After months of earning her trust, I was able to diagnose the problem not only with theoretical evidence, but also with empirical evidence. My lover faced abandonment issues and I struggled with communication.
Love was just l-o-v-e, letters when placed next to each other spelled a word.
Her wall of defense, I assumed, was up the moment I told her I love her. But, to her, love carried a triple meaning: love was abstract; love from a man was foreign to her; love was conditional. Love was just l-o-v-e, letters when placed next to each other spelled a word. “I love you” was obligatory after so many hours on the phone. The love she has known consisted of pain and tears placated by stuff, not time. So, with her raised eyebrow she waited, impatiently, for me to leave like the men before me. When I left her, she would rejoice. She would boast to herself like she had the power to prophesy her pain. Is she to blame? She suffered in silence. Those who attempted to help her before me, only opened the wound. The stability of their love was as shallow as cotton candy through the timeline of her life. It was sweet for the moment, but their presence was ephemeral and had no nutritional value. For one part of her life everything she prophesied about love, did come true. Her heart calloused and within the beauty of her heart, bitterness grew like a weed. I asked myself, often, is not her worry and doubt reasonable? It is insensitive to equate shared narratives with shared meanings. All the solutions offered by Oprah and Iyanla couldn’t help her heal, only God’s Spirit could do that.
It is insensitive to equate shared narratives with shared meanings.
Life is too complex, and only a few people have the answers we need. Maybe, I was the one who had the answers or one of the many who would help her on her road to healing. Every now and then, my words of reassurance would soothe the storm. But, the clouds of doubt watched from afar and crept in with rain whenever I turned my back. As time went on, I realized she didn’t always desire an escort out of the rain, but she preferred if I stood in the rain with her. Umbrella or not, my presence was the present she wanted, so, that’s what she got.
To have her in my life forever, was my motivation.
Years later, I’m still here and she enjoys my presence. She is still teaching me how to communicate and even through her pain, she still ensures that I grow. I doubt sometimes if she knows how serious my love for her is. She couldn’t argue that I had ulterior motives. To have her in my life forever, was my motivation. To have a woman of her beauty, intelligence, and stature lay with me every night and wake up with me every morning was my motivation. To build a legacy with her was my motivation. To the average woman, the love I showed to her would’ve been overwhelming. But to her, although she tried to play “cool”, I knew she cherished my love like a cool breeze on a humid night. Whenever she pushed me away, I drew closer. Whenever she fussed or complained, I wasn’t annoyed. I admired the fire in her eyes and hoped a similar passion filled her heart when it was our time to take over the world. When she cried, I tried my best to dry every tear and comfort her with the same love she showed me. When she expressed herself, I listened, even to the breaths she took. When she laughed, my heart jumped because her laugh added hours to my life, and I was glad to see her symmetrical white teeth. Although she never asked for help, I tried my best to offer help because she deserved it. We live in a fragmented world and I wanted the pieces of our hearts and lives and souls to intermingle and play an euphonious sound to the Most High God; and, a soothing encouraging sound to the world around us. Hopefully, our love continues to mature into something not even the dictionary can define.
“I use the word “love” here not merely in the personal sense but as a state of being, or a state of grace—not in the infantile American sense of being made happy but in the tough and universal sense of quest and daring and growth.”
