Love is multi-lingual. And like anything that speaks a language: a person, a body, a face; love can be misunderstood or hard to interpret.
So much in life is cyclical, here for a season, then gone. Like the feelings or emotions that we often mistake for love. So very little is constant. Including the ability to love people the way they need you to love them, for an extended period of time. Because that is some very hard work. Work akin to building Egyptian pyramids or calming a furious toddler. But as for that hard work, as the principle goes, what you get from it usually makes it worth it.
Even so, as worthy as the work may be, it can feel like churning butter, and not at all sustainable for the long haul. At least I think, because hello, it’s 2017 and so of course I have never churned butter. But I’m still fairly confident in this metaphor. And sometimes we need a break from the churning. Our loved ones will be ok with that, for a beat. But we do need to re-engage with that hard work, again and again. Because if we stop churning indefinitely, we won’t see the results we’re hoping for, our relationships won’t be solid.
Continue reading “What Language Does Your Love Speak?”
My husband and I recently found ourselves at the brink of marriage failure and in clawing our way back we encountered the single best piece of marital advice we’ve ever heard. Actually it’s the only advice that’s ever rang true, right and doable over the very long haul that every marriage is. It’s advice that’s ethereal in its authenticity and power. When we encountered it we knew without a doubt that heeding this instruction was how we would get back to our set point and even soar beyond what we’ve been settling for and on to new heights. The reason we knew it was going to work for us is because we had not done it with much regularity in the 20 years we have been married and we recognized this to be where we went wrong.
Continue reading “I Can’t Think About That Now, I’ll Go Crazy If I Do”
Nostalgic is what I’m feeling this Mother’s Day eve. My son was a terrible liar when he was little. His eyebrows gave him away every time. Continue reading “Those Eyebrows, Though”
Yes they are. Both things are true.
For as long as I can remember, grey has been my favorite color. I don’t think it’s an aesthetic only preference. I have rarely been able to see the world and its complexities in black and white. My viewfinder is constantly set to shades of grey and at times that can be maddening. I’m a fence sitter, right on top, usually perfectly balanced and almost never teetering towards one side or the other. I’m the human equivalent of Switzerland in my stance on most issues. I can see it your way and my way, his way and her way too. And because of that, I’m often left feeling like I don’t know which way is up or which way is down. I’ve shied away from important decision-making and resisted contributing to policymaking, I love to assist but detest being in charge and I’ve never been politically active; all because I’m not sure which way the wind is blowing.
Continue reading “Our Stories Are(n’t) For Everyone”