I never thought he’d ask me this soon, but yesterday, he did:
“What is Love, mom?”
My bilingual, inquisitive three-year-old, who already knows the meaning of four-syllable words such as, Esophagus, Stabilizer, and Paragliding, quizzed me on the simplest yet deepest of English words.
“What is Love, mom?”
“Love is, like, when you care about someone or something a lot,” I began. “Love is how I feel about you.”
But then I paused. Maybe the explanation wasn’t as easy as I thought.
“When you love someone, you trust them. You believe them. They make you happy. They make you smile.”
No sooner had I answered, that I realized this was my “general”, easy idea of love.
And all throughout my life, love hasn’t been general, nor easy.
Each time I have loved—if I have loved deeply—it was always different. The love I felt for one person was never the same for another.
And definitely, the way I loved my son was something else entirely.
When my daughter came along, even though I had previously thought my heart was so full of love for my first child, it somehow found space to tank up even more for the new one. Overflowing, overwhelming, love.
I thought also, of the days, when the routine of living becomes frustrating, and I tell my son off with angry words. I become exasperated, and upset…but I don’t love him any less.
Every new day, I love him all over again. No matter what passed yesterday, no matter how naughty or disobedient or frustrated he made me. I love him, because a parent’s love is unconditional.
And then I thought about the love that has kept me through the last four years of marriage. In the beginning, yes, this was the love of romantics, of extreme highs, of happy endings in colorful movies.
But now, it is the love that grows deeper with time—the love that, also unconditionally, forgives, forgets, and strives to be better every day.
It is love that communicates, or tries to.
Even when talking about issues is hard, when there are tears, and harsh words passed; when there are misunderstandings, and stupidity. After four years with a partner, you can be sure to have plenty of that.
It’s Love that knows, through those trying days, that this kind of love is hard to come by, and even harder to keep alive. Love that you work at to preserve—because it’s worth it.
Boys at play
And then, there’s the kind of love as written in the Epistle of 1st Corinthians 13:
“Love is patient…love does not envy, it is not puffed up in pride, does not behave unseemly, it seeks not her own, it is not easily provoked. It thinks no evil.”
If that is a perfect kind of love, then my own is far from ideal. I am always easily provoked! I think of my own and myself all too often. And evil thoughts? Well, that’s just human!
But the verses go on:
“Love rejoices in the truth. It bears all things. It believes all things. It hopes all things. Love never fails.”
Could I love this way? Believing all the possibilities? Hoping, always? Can I bear my burdens bravely, because Love gives me the strength?
Yes, I can.
I held my son a little bit longer that day, treasuring his thoughtful heart, knowing he would grow up way too fast, ask even tougher questions, and maybe, I would never, ever have all the answers.
But the thoughts he prompted had made me search my own soul, made me get back to what, in the end, really matters in life.
Made me know that, often you can’t define LOVE, or put a meaning on it, or make sense of it.
Indescribable, incredible love: sometimes you just know it’s there, and it’s perfect.
And even when it’s imperfect, if it’s real Love, it’s beautiful.
Now, go pursue, preserve, and fight for yours.