“An infant is born with a clenched fist; a man dies with an open hand. Life has a way of prying free the things we think are so important.”
After working almost nonstop for the past two weeks (up to 14 hour days), I finally had a chance for a break to do some creative refueling. My favorite thing to do is to take a drive or walk, maybe listen to some music and to think about the goodness inherit in simply being alive. But why is it so hard to keep that in mind? Today I thought about the nature of love – or should I say, I thought about how love matures.
As of late, I’ve been struggling with the ever widening gap between the doom and gloom of our world from recent news coverage (global warming, raising gas prices, deceptive politics, war, bloodshed, etc.) and the slick and styled promise of a better tomorrow from advertisements and paid sponsorships. My exposure to public media has been saturated with such emotional extremes, I often feel powerless to do anything about the growing problems of our world but to go along for the ride and settle for the superficial good feeling of buying something new. But that approach to life is so incredibly unhealthy and I want to move in a different direction… I want to choose to love.
There is a side to life, full of brokenness and tragedy, that makes the choice of love so much more painful. It’s the darker side of life that’s easy to ignore until it strikes, because in all honestly, so few of us actually have the tools to cope. Instead, it’s easier to indulged in a reality escape or bury it with a blur of activity instead of choosing anything at all. But that will surely keep us from love. By acknowledging the brokenness in our own lives and in the relationships we share, we make room for love to grow. Surprisingly, it is not weakened by our weaknesses; love is not spoiled by our past mistakes. It is not hindered by our inability to move without it. Like nothing else, love accepts and transforms the tragedies of life.
Love matures by seeking to heal and repair that which is broken beyond its own usefulness. Much like a cracked cup that can no longer hold water, love confidently moves forward and offers a fresh and tender bandage.