Boyfriends, Girlfriends and ... our Iniquities

Sunday ... the fifth Sunday in Lent.  Renewal?  Maybe not yet.  Redemption?  Yeh ... ongoing.  What am I feeling today?  What am I thinking today?  Where am I today?

My children are young adults ... and they are both in love.  That takes me back to when I was their age -- 20... 21 ... 22.  I got married when I was 22.  Oh my ... just a month shy of 23.  Scare me.

David was 21.  We were babies, at least in today's world.  Not so much back in 1987.  We knew we wanted to be together "forever."  We wouldn't dare disrespect our parents or our Lord by living together!  We got married.  It was wonderful.  True love and all that.  A lost idea in today's world ... today's world.  Ugh.  What a disappointing world.

I've been enjoying getting to know the ... what do we call them these days??  Boyfriend/Girlfriend?  Other halves?  Hmmm.  The lovely young adults with whom my children are currently involved.  Ugh.  That's a mouthful.  But I have to protect the identities of the innocent.   Ha.  Innocent.  I hope so ... nonetheless. No names!  I have protected my own kids, so I have to protect the offspring of others -- those whom I have never even met.  So, I'll call them my extended beloved.  And I do love them.  :-)  Will you be a part of my life in the future?  How far into my future?  Gone are the days where forever is forever.  Enter the days where "forever" is maybe.  Kind of.  Who knows?  Whatever.  I'm so sad about this.

And yet I have come to know and love these two beloved who have become constants in the lives of my children.  I think they love me, too.  With what wisdom or constancy can I embrace them?  My home is your home.  My God is your God.  Will they accept that?  Will they love, too?  The dog is easy; our God may not be as easily understood.

It's Year A in the Lectionary.  Today's Scripture ranges from the raising of Lazarus to the flesh vs. the spirit to the dry bones of Ezekiel.  These are all really tough ideas -- what do I believe?  What do they believe?  What do we believe?  We are a family -- I think -- perhaps -- maybe.  Joshua 24:15b: '... but as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.’ Get used to it.

In the not so distant past, I thought I sort of kind of had a "boyfriend."  I never used that term.  He used the term "girlfriend" once -- by accident.  Then immediately altered the comment to "a girl who is a friend."  Ha.  I'm no girl.  I am entirely woman.  Thank you.  But there was a hiccup -- a hesitation -- an unsurety.  Of course there was.  I still kind of sort of feel married! but I'm not.  I'm widowed.  So is he.  He is also a broken person -- one who has known great sorrow -- and great loss.  And a bunch of other junk.  The junk made him dangerous -- a risk.  Good grief.  Literally -- grief.  He got a pair of handmade socks, a great Bible and a favorite movie -- and some of my heart.  His cat got in a few good scratches (I still have the scars) and a catnip toy.  He thinks he's still in love with someone else.  Aren't we all?  David Bailey is no one with whom to be reckoned.  I don't think he cares enough to be reading this anyway, so he'll never know.  Ironically, it IS in his nature to care.  I know this and that's why I gave him as much of my spirit and attention and affection as I did.  But he's way behind.  Who knows when he'll catch up.  Most likely when it's too late.  Okay ... where was I going with this? 

I dabbled with online dating the other night.  Okay ... let's take a moment to collect ourselves.  Yes, I know.  I can't believe it, either.  Two beloved -- very close to me -- have encouraged me to do match.com or whatever.  I've always eschewed them.  I believed God had someone in mind for me -- would handle this -- ya da ya da ya da.  I'm almost 50.  For heaven's sake. 

I did the whole thing -- the whole profile wizard, etc. etc. etc. -- and even the payment process.  Then I totally freaked.  I searched high and low for the avenue through which to cancel -- no such luck.  I finally found a phone number on the west coast through which I could cancel.  I cancelled.  I  emphatically told the lovely lady on the phone that their billing process was tricky and lacked integrity and I cancelled.  Cancelled.  Cancelled.  She was sad.  She commented on how much effort I had put into my profile.  OMG.  I wept and wept and wept.  Is this really my life?

I hope my kids don't read this post.  First of all, I don't want them to worry about me.  More importantly, I don't want them to be as disappointed in this person for whom they have feelings as I am.  I know he loves them.  How does he manage this?  How can I manage this?  I prayed for him today.  I can't wish any ill-will upon him.  I care about him still.  Jesus, help me.

But there's a greater purpose here -- a commentary on friendship -- on relationship.  I've been contemplating relationship -- friendship -- lately.  What comprises a relationship?  A friendship?  What do you think?  I know what I think! 

Does relationship require a certain degree of attention? of communication?  If you've read any of my stuff, you know that I think that it DOES.  Friendship requires attention, affection and communication.  We say that certain people are our "friends," but isn't that really short-changing true friendship?  Sure, some of my friends live far away.  It is more challenging for us to regularly regard each other.  Okay ... but "friends" who live in close proximity to me are people for whom I extend attention -- regard -- care.  These are beloved for whom I constantly care.  What is constant?  Daily?  Weekly?  Monthly?  YES.  Any and all of the above.  Sure, some are souls who are in my daily or weekly life.  Then there are those with whom I spend a little less time -- monthly, perhaps.  They don't attend my church, work with me, live near me, etc.  But I love them and care about them.  Then there are those who, perhaps, live outside of my weekly or even monthly life, but whom I care about a great deal.  Of course there are those who live really far away, but for whom I have great affection.

What do we do with those who used to be within that "regular care" circle but who are no longer a part of that circle?  Ok ... they're still friends, but distant friends.  I have a few of those.   Not all of those distant friends are because I wanted them to be "distant," but because they deemed us to be distant.  That's life.  Move on ...

So the question looms:  Who do you love?  Who are your true and lasting friends?  To whom do you extend your time, attention, affection and grace?

Good question.

How full is your cup?  Upon whom do you empty your cup?  Who fills your cup?  What is your cup? 

Just when I think my cup has been "emptied" by a certain friend, she fills it.  That's how I know she's a keeper.  She's not the only one.  There are a few.  Most of them are women; not all.  My son fills my cup from time to time.  David filled my cup just when I thought I couldn't go on.  My new pastor fills my cup unknowingly.  A sister fills my cup daily.  My daughter does, too.  But a whole bunch of other people drain it.  Some days I am truly running on empty.  These are my darkest, lowest days.  Those who fill my cup are truly blessed.  I hope they know what a gift they are to not only me, but to others who are blessed by the filling of my cup.  Does this mean anything to you?  The cup?

Yesterday I didn't get dressed.  My cup was decidedly empty.  I got up.  I had breakfast -- and lunch -- even dinner.  But I did little else.  I did some devotions -- I read a little in my Bible -- I was in touch with a friend, a sister, my kids -- but I wasn't fruitful.  No, wait!  I took my dog for a walk.  I exercised.  Got some fresh air.  To me, this is a victory.  What did you do yesterday?  Mow your whole yard?  Clean your entire house?  Do your taxes?  Something huge?  When all I did was go for a walk and do the dishes and these were victories?  See?  Our realities are different.  I used to be an achiever.  A doer.  Now if I get dressed, it is an accomplishment.  How does that make you feel?  I'm embarrassed.

But not really.  I've been "down" here long enough to know that when I actually get out of bed, it's a victory.  If I get my dishes done, yay!  Some of you understand and are cheering me on.  Those of you who don't understand, God bless you.  I hope you never have to understand.  I reach out every day to my Lord in thanksgiving -- some kind of thanksgiving -- so that I can be in His presence and clamber at that elusive joy that is promised to me.  To those of you who don't have to claw and clamber, rejoice wholly.  I wish I were in your shoes ... really.  But in my own shoes, I know the grace of God's mercy to the least of us.  Thank you, Jesus.  Thank you. 

Isaiah 53;⁵ But he was wounded for our transgressions,
   crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the punishment that made us whole,
   and by his bruises we are healed.
⁶ All we like sheep have gone astray;
   we have all turned to our own way,
and the Lord has laid on him
   the iniquity of us all.

Widows ... and orphans

Even I think of "widows and orphans" in a context of a Word document.  Widows and orphans are a typographical no-no.  How dare we leave words alone on one line on the bottom or top of a page??  Horrors.  And yet ... I'm left all alone tonight.  Most nights.  Almost every night.  On my own line.  In my own space.  In my own company.  In my own home.  Alone.   "A widow is a word or line of text that is forced to go on alone and start its own column or page."  FORCED to go on alone.  Yep.  That's me.  Excuse me ... That is I ... who is forced to go on alone ... you get it.

My kids aren't truly orphans.  They're not "single words at the bottom of a paragraph that get left behind."  They have me.  They have each other.  However, they are fatherless and that means something altogether different -- and altogether poignant. 

or·phan [noun]  1) a child who has lost both parents through death, or, less commonly, one parent. 2) a young animal that has been deserted by or has lost its mother. 3) a person or thing that is without protective affiliation, sponsorship.

But wait!   ... "less commonly, ONE parent."  Maybe they are, to a certain degree.  Goodness knows they don't enjoy the same benefits as their peers with two healthy, working, successful parents.  I don't want to remove any special consideration from my kids, but, hey ... I'm still alive.  And I love them fiercely and they know it.  They have plenty of protective affiliation.  They have that unconditional love thing that comes from the momma.  That's me.

That is I.

They are getting along in age.  One is now 20 ... and the other is closing in on 22.  What, then, is the natural progression of things?  Do the tables begin to turn ... to slowly rotate ... to swing the "protective affiliation" thing?  Does the momma naturally evolve into the position of the person or thing who falls under the "protective affiliation?"  Hmmm.  Probably in the not-so-near future, but ultimately, maybe ...  Especially because I'm a widow.  Dang.  Poor kids.  They're supposed to have a father taking care of such stuff.  I'm supposed to have a husband living beside me.  "Supposed to ..."  What a crock.

The first year after David died I did experience the blessing of special consideration ... "protective affirmation ... sponsorship" -- from my neighbors and from my church family.  I was and continue to be wholly thankful for that loving blanket of care.  However, the emergence of my situation has faded, I know.  My seemingly courageous and healthy "survival" has allowed my neighbors and friends believe that I'm ok.  And I am ... for the most part ... but I am alone -- "forced to go on alone."  I can count on one hand the number of beloved who understand that and who consistently check in with me -- care for me -- be with me.  Two of them are fellow widows.  Go figure.

Do family, friends, church owe me special attention?  Hmmm.  Good question.  I'm not really one to whine or to expect such stuff, but Scripture has something to say about it.  The Psalms say plenty about "defending" and "pleading the case of" the widow, as well as God "not pitying the widow."  That's confusing.  But the Lord said to "do no wrong or violence" to the widow and that the "widows can depend on me."  That presents a reader with conflicting information ... but the over-riding message is:  Widow-dom = bad.  Nobody wants to be a widow.  Yeh.  Me neither.  And yet, at times, widows were honored -- like at the raising of Dorcas. 

 

Acts 9:36 In Joppa there was a disciple named Tabitha (in Greek her name is Dorcas); she was always doing good and helping the poor. 37 About that time she became sick and died, and her body was washed and placed in an upstairs room. ³⁸ Lydda was near Joppa; so when the disciples heard that Peter was in Lydda, they sent two men to him and urged him, “Please come at once!”  ³⁹ Peter went with them, and when he arrived he was taken upstairs to the room. All the widows stood around him, crying and showing him the robes and other clothing that Dorcas had made while she was still with them.  ⁴⁰ Peter sent them all out of the room; then he got down on his knees and prayed. Turning toward the dead woman, he said, “Tabitha, get up.” She opened her eyes, and seeing Peter she sat up. ⁴¹ He took her by the hand and helped her to her feet. Then he called for the believers, especially the widows, and presented her to them alive.

"Especially the widows."

Timothy wasn't such a good friend of widows.  Ultimately, through the centuries, his word has been distorted and has not been such a good friend of women in general.  That's another blog ...

But James made it pretty clear:  James 1:26 Those who consider themselves religious and yet do not keep a tight rein on their tongues deceive themselves, and their religion is worthless. 27 Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.

 

So to those of you who have taken good care of the widows (and orphans) in your midst -- and I've heard so much about your good works through grace -- THANK YOU.  You are blessed.  You are holy.  To those of you who have taken good care of me -- consistently cared about me, checked on me, called me, written to me, loved me ... THANK YOU.  Matthew 5:⁷ Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.

So on this Friday night, having gone to the movie theater alone, spent the day alone, spent the evening alone and now going on to bed alone ... I bid you all great peace.  During Lent when we are called to remember the love of Jesus and the joy of our salvation, I leave you with these ponderings from Henri Nouwen (look him up).

The Honesty Of Compassion

Do not judge, and you will not be judged; do not condemn, and you will not be condemned.  Luke 6:37

 

Compassion means to become close to the one who suffers, but we can come close to another person only when we are willing to become vulnerable ourselves.  A compassionate person says:  "I am your brother; I am your sister; I am human, fragile, and mortal, just like you.  I am not scandalized by your tears, nor afraid of your pain.  I too have wept.  I too have felt pain."  We can be with the other only when the other ceases to be "other" and becomes like us.

This, perhaps, is the main reason that we sometimes find it easier to show pity than compassion.  The suffering person calls us to become aware of our own suffering.  How can I respond to someone's loneliness unless I am in touch with my own experience of loneliness?  How can I be close to handicapped people when I refuse to acknowledge my own handicaps?  How can I be with the poor when I am unwilling to confess my own poverty?

I must do some things to fulfill my duties.  But isn't it time I examined my routines and cut out the things I do just to stay busy?  Lord, help me this Lent to begin to focus my attention on the important things. 

[RENEWED FOR LIFE:  Daily Lenten Meditations from the works of Henri J. M. Nouwen, Mark Neilson, editor]

And that means me, too.  Daily I struggle to discern what I'm supposed to be doing!  How am I called to glorify my God?  To be wholly in the "presence of Jesus?"

Maybe there is a widow to whom I should be attending ... or some orphans.  Yeh.  I can do that, too.

It's Been a Year ...

... since I wrote about being "under pressure."  It was the same week a year ago -- week "8" of the year. I know this because it's my timeshare week.  It always falls over David's birthday.  This year he would have turned 48.  What do I do with that??

So during the last year I took a couple risks.  Risk for me is pretty low-key.  Let's get that out in the open.  I'm cautious by nature.  (I passed that on to my son; not my daughter.)  I dipped my toe into the cold water.  I got hurt.  I did it again.  I got hurt again.  Not a good pattern, right?  My sisters and close friends encourage me to be cautious -- to be guarded.  I bravely state that I'd rather risk that hurt than be mortared-up -- isolated and bitter.  And that's true.  But NOT being hurt would be a lot better.

I'm on retreat again.  I decided a couple years ago when both kids were in college to actually spend my timeshare week at my timeshare -- at the beach in the middle of winter.  It's wonderful.  I have a balcony right on the Atlantic.  I can chose to freeze and hear the ocean or be warm and read. I chose both alternatively.  I walk and walk and walk up the coastline on the water's edge, dodging the surf -- then back on the boardwalk tramping the sand out of my shoes.  I meander in and out of the beach shops that delightfully remain open in the winter, allowing me to fulfill a familial obligation to conduct cheesy souvenir shopping.  It's so gratifying to find the perfect keepsake for the year (this year a bottle opener and an insulated coffee cup ... yeh, I know .... kind of boring, but last year's bamboo windchimes never got hung so they're still good).

Last winter I brought a friend with me to experience the winter beach.  This year I'm alone.  Beloveds have asked why?  If this is wise ... Do I want company?  My responses span from "yes, of course ... I'm accustomed to being alone" to "what is my choice?"  And I have invited a few to join me.  I know at least one would have come had I said I just couldn't be alone.  Thank you.  Another would have been challenged to take the time off.  I'm really okay.  As I told a sister, I do most everything alone.  Why should vacation be much different?  Is that a commentary on my life?  Perhaps.

Even when David was alive, I lived possibly the majority of my life alone.  Some weeks he was gone from Friday through Monday -- sometimes Thursday through Tuesday.  Weekends were lonely and challenging, but one can get used to most anything, right?  Whether right or wrong/good or bad.  It was to what I was accustomed -- my normal.  I didn't like it then; I don't like it now. 

I haven't read much since David's death.  It is a glaring contrast to pre-widowed behavior.  I was always deep in a novel -- reading through several in a week most of the time.  David could sometimes get me to read one of his non-fiction favorites ... but the point is that I was an avid reader.  I sort of feel a bit like an intellectual failure the last few years -- reading a bit of young adult fiction here and there ... dabbling in grief books or healing devotionals -- but never really committing to any written word.  This week I brought some spiritual stuff, a silly book and a popular novel.  I'm more than half-way through a book about sorrow, joy, blessings and faith (humbling) -- more than half-way through a book about how people affect each other.  Interesting.  I already discarded a tedious parody -- and have yet to open the novel.  What does that say about my state of mind and heart this week?  I'm seeking avenues for joy -- permission to trust that God's promises "not to harm me but to prosper me" have merit.  Ugh.

So, Henri Nouwen, you have me very humbly acknowledging joy.  Thank you!  At least you permit the sorrows first.  Yeh, I have a bunch of those.  You have made me ponder blessings and want to break further out from my own suffering.  It is time, right?  Believing it and wanting it are a little different than doing it, but it's a start.  I've also been repeatedly slapped in the face by a best-selling devotional about self-pity and self-preoccupation.  Geez!!  Today's entry basically accused me of rebelling against God by not trusting in His promises to care for me even though my future seems precarious -- that my future is a mystery and I should just put up and shut up (translation:  have faith).  Ouch.  Be patient.  How much longer do I have to wait before I "prosper?"  What are these promises?  Then the self-pity creeps in and I only see my sorrows and lose sight of my joys.  It takes a LOT of energy to keep on keepin' on!

So in the interim, I have tried to be in "community" with someone who made me feel less "different."  Someone who understood my sorrows -- my losses.  I risked a good deal ... and was hurt.  I was truthful and vulnerable and naked -- offered Grace that, it turns out, was decidedly undeserving ... but isn't that was Grace is?  Nouwen expresses this as 'lifting our cup' of our life -- sharing with one another our "sufferings and joys in mutual vulnerability" so that the new covenant (Jesus' sacrifice) can become visible among us.  "The surprise of it all is that it is often the least among us who reveal to us that our cup is a cup of blessings."  And I'd do it again.  I want only to BE a blessing.  Of course it would be lovely if I would also be blessed, as "promised," but I guess I'll have to wait patiently on the Lord for this -- assuming that I don't rebel against this promise. 

"The cup of blessings is the cup the meek have to offer to us."  ~H.J.M. Nouwen, "Can You Drink the Cup?"  How do you convince someone that despite their brokenness -- their abandonment -- their aimless wandering-- they can actually bless others?  I don't know ... but, on David's birthday, I have to give him credit for believing that they can.  He believed that there was no heart that could not be turned and that those who suffer the most have the most to give.  But only if they tear down the walls that imprison them and find liberation -- freedom to be a blessing, to be in community, to lift their cup to life.  Isn't that beautiful?

The rest of the world is sleeping
Like it seems to do every night
Here I am again, alone with my friends
the candles and the clouds and the moonlight

I know it isn't the first time
I'm sure it won't be the last
But this is my time, these are my hours
Gotta take them now before they become the past

And night after night I keep trying
to understand this life that I live
I keep coming back to the same old track
Those who suffer most have the most to give

There's a heart that's bleeding in the heartland
and another that is broken in the east
Somewhere far across the ocean
there's a soul just searching for peace

Prisoners of hope,
Love's last refugees
If we cannot suffer together,
Then our pain don’t mean a thing

The rest of the world is sleeping
Maybe, tonight I will too
If not, there's always tomorrow
And If not there’s always you

but every night, you can find me with my candles
celebrating this life I live
listen to this song and always remember
those who suffer most have the most to give

"Most to Give," Love the Time - http://www.davidmbailey.com/audio/DAVID_M_BAILEY-Most_to_Give2_hifi.m3u

Hey, 2013, don't let the door hit you on the a** on your way out!

Yeh.  It hasn't been such a great year.  Well, there have definitely been some highlights.  I've made some pretty unexpected choices and done some unexpected things ... and have surprised myself with certain changes in me.  But 2013 has been frustrating and isolated and sort of sad.  I think those things come with change, along with some excitement here and there and at least a little happiness dotted in and around all the other stuff.  What does any of that even mean!?

The time period from last fall to the latest autumn pretty much marked the first year I have ever truly had on my own.  Most people thought I'd be wallowing in loneliness with my son off to school and my nest decidedly empty (save the RBD) -- but it was actually a year of revelation and (for lack of a less hackneyed word ...) growth.

When my mother died, I was finishing my sophomore year in college.  I spent the summer picking up all the pieces of my own life -- taking care of my broken father -- and two younger sisters.  Moving straight into an adult position at the age of 19, I sort of lost those last two carefree years of college -- yet somehow managed to "free" myself enough to fall in love with a most unlikely younger man.  Still, firmly scared of life at that point, I accepted a job at a firm far from home (and David) ... but working with my older sister.  The transition to the "real" world was more gentle and I wasn't really on my own.  Just a few months into that job -- living in a dreary apartment with so little money that I didn't do anything and didn't have any friends outside of work -- David and I got engaged.  Then, just after the New Year, my dad had some serious health issues, so I returned to Pennsylvania.  The objective was to help out at home, but a serious car accident in freezing rain landed me in the hospital with a fractured pelvis and I became a dependent to my ailing father and grandmother.  That was not the plan. 

When I was mobile and able to drive, I started working for my dad.  I was able to plan our wedding throughout the spring and summer and continued to work for my father's corporation following our late summer wedding.  Still a dependent, right?  But a year after we were married we moved to DC and I got a "real" job in the "real" world downtown Washington.  I did the big commuter life thing -- metro busses and subways -- then the long drives from the suburbs.  Then we started a family.  I had barely ever lived on my own.  I had only barely lived my life according to my own desires and schedule.  And I didn't want to! 

David started to become quite upwardly mobile around the time we started a family.  He began to travel extensively nationally and internationally.  I was so isolated.  I had worked part-time in DC until my daughter was 1 and I was pregnant with my son.  One evening trying to get home from work, an accident on I-95 prevented me from getting back to my baby in childcare while my husband was on a business trip in Switzerland or Wales or Belgium.  I was newly pregnant and the situation was pretty dire.  I quit the commute after that -- telecommuted until my son was born -- then quit altogether to raise my kids.  Just a couple years later, on the cusp of a move to Boston, David was diagnosed and everything came to a screeching halt.

Then I became not only a mother, but a caregiver and a home-base "rock."  David's travel life didn't end, but changed.  He travelled at least a third of the time.  Even if I had wanted to, it would have been extremely challenging to have any kind of career of my own.  (Too bad I never thought of writing back then ...)  Thankfully, I had a great group of friends -- other at-home, young mothers -- who came along-side of each other and diluted the isolation of choosing that life.  Raising my children is the most important and gratifying thing I have ever done.  That job is nearly complete ... so change is inevitable.  Change.

Some people think we were nuts getting married so young.  At 22, I had had very few worldly, exciting experiences.  It's true.  But I was able to embark on adventures WITH David -- not a girlfriend or roommate.  A husband.  That was great!  As young adults in DC, we were pretty poor.  We didn't go out much -- a draft was over $7 back in the late '80s.  Our little cave of an apartment cost us around $600/month and his starting salary was around $19K.  Somehow we managed some fun -- taking the "Montrealer" (Amtrak) to Canada -- a wee precursor to more international travel.  Then, just a couple years later, we travelled to Cyprus for Christmas with his family and extended the trip to three weeks -- two of which were spent kicking around Germany (not long after the wall came down), Austria, Switzerland and Italy spending every other night on the train.  We found ourselves on the Ponte Vecchio on Christmas Eve 1990 with a crowd of [wonderfully] crazy Italians swigging champagne, smashing bottles and shooting guns.  Yes, guns.  It was the most memorable night of my life to this day.  Incidentally, I had the best sex of my life that night, too.  No more on that, you dropped-jaw people!  Ha.

So ... the point is that I chose to NOT be alone.  I decided that living side-by-side with David was way preferable to being independent and adventuring on my own.  I would do it all over again.  I don't regret getting married young at all.  However, over this last year I got a taste of the liberties that being on your own can offer.

I no longer had to consider anybody else's needs or schedules or desires or problems or or or ...  I could sleep when I wanted; get up when I wanted (when I wasn't working); go out when I wished; eat what I liked; choose to get dressed or not.  No more homeroom bells, teacher conferences, lunches to pack (I love you guys -- loved making your lunches, but man! that got old!)  You get the point.  I still went to church every Sunday, but sometimes skipped Sunday School <gasp>.

But after a while, the liberty got stale.  The on my own stuff became boring and I, again, found myself to be quite isolated.  A friend who had been available started working longer hours and found a companion.  It didn't take long to recall why I chose to get married:  To live along-side of someone with whom I shared a belief system -- a value system -- love of music -- love of family -- love of travel.  Someone to warm the other side of the bed and brew the coffee.  Someone with whom to debate (discuss) a topic -- with whom to worship -- with whom to pray.  A warm hand to hold -- a movie-going companion -- a late-night dreamer.  Devotion.

So, along with everyone else, the new year offers somewhat of a clean slate.  Let's call it a "blank" slate -- on which to design, write, dream, risk -- across  365 more gifts of life.  I'm the first to admit that many of the upcoming days will be spent doing little that matters -- let's call that "rest."  Some days will be spent going through the motions of life with little to no consideration of affect.  Hmmm.  Maybe I can focus on that -- deciding what effect my motions and choices have on my world -- on the greater world.  It's too dang exhausting to attempt to have a positive effect every day, at least for my own tired soul ... but maybe it's something on which I can ponder.  Maybe the "greater world" can be a person or two or three.  Yeh, I can work with that.  I usually do anyway. 

So, returning to the same old same old ... Love.  How can I better love this year?  Love me, love others, love the world ... and better love God.  I think most of the fear is finally gone.  That opens up more opportunity for hurt -- for disappointment.  But it also opens up a world of expression, color, warmth and even trust in an untrustworthy world.  I may fail horribly and fall painfully on my butt, but at least I will have been open to the change -- to unexpected freedoms -- to new people and chances to venture down new roads -- to living more fully.  Will I embrace it?  I want to believe in people again.  I want to believe in God's promises.  I guess the newness of time will tell. 

Jeremiah 29:11-13
New International Version (NIV)

¹¹ For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. ¹² Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. ¹³ You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.

Am I out of stories to tell?

A beloved has commented that I am doing less storytelling and more exploring of forces and values and loves in my life right now and wondered why the change.  I really had to stop and ponder the question.  I have already acknowledged feedback that "exile" is more dark than "uncleaving."  But why? 

To be  honest, many of the "stories" I could tell would be a bit damning to the main characters.  No true protagonists would explode onto the scene(s).  And that is really very sad.  I'm in a stage where the people in my life are either grossly disappointing or simply solid.  Disappointing can provide interesting tales! but I'm not ready to expose such shenanigans.  Maybe in the near/later future -- when their identities can be less obvious.  But for now I'm stuck with tales of not-so-dubious circumstances ... and those can fare less intriguing, right?  Everyone loves a good dirty laundry tale, though we shouldn't. ... "Identities have been changed to protect the ... GUILTY."  <snort>

So, in the interim, of what do I write?  Hmmm.  I'm doing laundry.  Whatever.  My house is dirty.  Yeh, what else is new?  I may have ten souls descending upon me for Thanksgiving and I should be panicking!!  Now that's a story, right?  Let's count beds ...

Once again I'm spending the evening with Allie, my faithful dog who swears she is in charge.  She sure is persevering sometimes -- standing at the edge of the kitchen (not allowed IN the kitchen) wagging her tail, ears perked, softly whimpering for a dog treat.  I'm trying to get her to stop that because it drives me nuts.  Begging is bad behavior.  I blame this on my kids who continue to feed her from the table against my wishes!  I hate a begging dog.  Sadly, though, she usually wears me down, not unlike the Persistent Widow of Jesus' parable wearing down the mean old king.  Keep praying keep praying keep praying -- translated to dog-speak:  keep whimpering keep begging keep wagging ... Who am I not to love my dog as God loves me?  So she gets the bone and the behavior is reinforced.  God, throw ME a bone, won't you please?!  Whatever.  Daughter, I already told this story!  http://reluctantlyuncleaving.blogspot.com/2012/11/the-true-alpha-female.html
 
But what I haven't written about is poor Allie's sensitivity.  A couple years ago, she began to have some real issues with her skin.  Her ears drove her crazy and had become course and stiff from some infection or something.  The skin on her belly started to turn black.  Her neck had become raw and the fur under her collar had fallen out, leaving her skin inflamed.  She was an itchy mess of a dog!  I was very distracted at that time with the business of death -- of keeping my kids afloat -- of making it through each day.  When I finally truly recognized Allie's discomfort, it was pretty advanced.  Guilty doesn't cover how badly I felt ... but human vs. dog ... humans took priority. 

The vet was able to give her a good steroid shot (the "silver bullet") for the itching -- and $50+ dollars' worth of ear ointment.  Add to that, a $30 bottle of antibiotic shampoo, the office visit and the regular exorbitant flea and heartworm meds ... I was paying more for my dog's healthcare than I had for David's!  (I'm freaking serious.)  Our vet was great -- very down-to-earth and understanding about my life situation/financial limitations, etc. and asked me if Allie and David were close.  She said it could be an emotional response to his death.  I had never considered that!
 

Hm.  Allie and David had a sort of Machiavellian kind of relationship.  I simply mean "cunning" here ... with a touch of self-servitude.  David was a snacker.  Allie is a snacker.  He wasn't really a dog person.  She isn't really a people dog (she won't fetch or play ... but does like to be the center of attention ...)  David and Allie had a relationship based on him doling out high-class snacks (almonds, cashews, pretzels, potato skins, combos ... anything in a crackle'y bag) and her continuously wagging her tail, perking her ears and giving him the loving eye in return.  When I was at work and the kids were at school, these two were constant companions -- especially during that last year of his life when he wasn't travelling as much.  They had a truly symbiotic relationship:  symbiosis (noun pl. sym-bi-o-ses) - 1. Biology - A close, prolonged association between two or more different organisms of different species that may, but does not necessarily, benefit each member; 2. A relationship of mutual benefit or dependence.

Yep.

But I thought there was more to it.  When David was in the Hospice House, I decided to take Allie to visit him.  I thought that he would respond positively to her and she would respond positively to him.  That wasn't the case!  He barely acknowledged her presence; she didn't even look at him.  It was almost as if the two of them already had an understanding:  It's over.  Move on.  I was stunned and perplexed.  Allie didn't make a return visit and David never asked about her at all. 

But after he died, her skin changed.  Why didn't I notice the possible connection?  I know full well that Allie is an emotional dog.  She can be quite vindictive when she decides that she's alone too much -- aka, neglected.  When the kids are at college and it's just me and I'm at work, or out shopping, or out at a rehearsal, or out with friends -- she's here all alone.  No crinkle'y crackle'y snack bag, no hand feeding her high-class snacks, no hand patting her head or voice speaking her name.  And no man of the house.  Allie is very female-oriented (I've always been the "boss") but David was her companion and he was gone.  Gone for good.

Everybody thinks the RBD is a "sweet dog."  And most of the time, she is.  But when she wants to be a meanie, she is a meanie.  Over the last year when I have spent too many hours away from the house or, God forbid, a night or two! I come home to her having clawed-down the blankets and pillows from all the chairs and sofas.  ????  In the sitting room, the family room, my bedroom -- all game.  I travelled up to the college this past weekend to see my kids.  I figured I would prevent all the dragging-down of stuff by putting guitars on sofas and boxes on chairs. That worked!  She was stymied!  So, instead, she clawed-down two heirloom quilts from a quilt rack in my upstairs hallway.  That made me pretty angry.

Anyone who says that dogs aren't vindictive don't have an Allie.  She punishes me for every moment she spends alone.  She actually does relax over the summer when there are more souls at home, but right now, she's miserable and quite intent on making me the same.  Some of you may be thinking, "Gee ... a couple pillows ... blankets ... some dog hair. What's the big deal?!"  I know.  It sounds petty.  But it's bigger than that.  It's the punishment that she is imposing on me when all I'm doing is trying to live this life I have -- to be a good mother -- a good friend -- a formidable church lady, etc.  I don't need to come home to judgment that I'm a bad dog mistress -- or whatever.  In the end, I didn't ever want a dog!  So I get a little bitter.  I know you dog lovers are mad at me now.  But I'm not getting that promised unconditional love from my dog.  I'm being punished -- over and over -- day after day.  It's terrible.

But she's my only companion in this moment.  She knows I'm mad at her, so she's not even begging for a treat.  She went upstairs, defeated.  We will make-up -- maybe tomorrow -- maybe the next day.  We have no choice but to be each other's symbiotic partner now.  We weren't made to be that for each other -- we were made to vie for the alpha position.  Sorry, old girl -- but it will always be me.  Still, she is VERY cute and very sweet, aside from the misbehaving and I do love her.  Good grief.  I need to get out more.

Two days later ... I came home from a 13 hour day at the church and just loved on Allie.  She moaned with relief at being forgiven -- for she had not been destructive in my absence.  She came when I called and was forgiving, too.  Everything is back in balance for now.  Oh how peace ebbs and flows ... Right now peace as I bake sweet potato soufflé, green bean casserole and pumpkin pies ahead of a busy Thanksgiving holiday where souls will come together in joy and love.  Allie will be right in the midst of it all, begging for some turkey meat.  <sigh> 

But when everyone goes home or back to college, it will just be the two of us again.  And she'll be right down here in the pit alongside me.  It's good to have company.

How Big a Deal is Friendship?

Friendship is vital to my very survival.

In no way does this minimize the importance of family ... but all of my family is well over 300 miles away in numerous directions.  Friendship is a big deal to me. 

(For the record, I am beginning this blog on a Friday night.  <sigh>  Though I have a lot of friends, most of them are with their spouses or better you-know-who's tonight.  I'm at home with my dog.  My daughter called, though!  I really wish I was out doing something fun ... but, alas, here I am.  I'm trying to be content with my current circumstances.  Ugh.)

I have a couple initial thoughts about friendship -- before any research or definitions or contemplation.  The best of friends often happen upon each other in an unplanned and wonderful way.  Friendship is a gift.  Ideally, it should bring you joy -- be natural -- "easy."  This doesn't mean that we don't have to attend to our friendships ... I just mean that it shouldn't be arduous.  I also believe that some friendships are for a season, of which I have written before.  I think that friendships round-out our emotional lives.  We can't only be in relationship with our families -- so friends fill-in the gaps -- become in-laws -- round-out our communities, including work and school and recreation.  It is also important to remember that there are so many different types of friends.  Some friends are more like aquaintances.  Most often, I think, friendships are formed due to mutual interests or similar personalities.  Some friends are inserted into your life -- like fellow Saints in your church -- or neighbors.  Some are schoolmates from childhood that have hung-in there with you.  Some are sister'y (or brother'y) friends from young adulthood and entries into parenthood.  Some are from the workplace or friends of friends.  Some friends become spouses or lovers and, yes, our family members can also be friends.  They all serve a different kind of purpose and fill a different kind of need.  Friendship is a myriad of all sorts of relationships in our lives and it is too complex to simmer-down to a simple expression or definition.  This is turning out to be a more complicated blog than I had anticipated. 

Defining friendship or friend is interesting -- broad and rich. 

friend·ship (noun)  1. the state of being a friend; association as friends; 2. a friendly relation or intimacy; 3. friendly feeling or disposition.

Clearly, one needs to understand what a friend is to glean anything from this!  However, additional reference is helpful in the form of a (synonym)  1. harmony, accord, understanding, rapport.  So ...

friend //(noun)  1. a person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard; 2. a person who gives assistance; patron; supporter; 3. a person who is on good terms with another; a person who is not hostile; 4. a member of the same nation, party, etc.; 5. ( initial capital letter ) a member of the Religious Society of Friends; a Quaker; 6. a person associated with another as a contact on a social-networking web site.  (verb) 7. to befriend.; 8. to add (a person) to one's list of contacts on a social-networking Web site.  (synonym)  1. comrade, chum, crony, confidant; 2. backer, advocate. 3. ally, associate, confrere, compatriot.  (antonym)   enemy, foe.

I'm a little addicted to the music of Andrew Bird.  I can't explain his music -- or his lyrics -- in a few words.  Suffice it to say that his music is entirely unique and his lyrics are strange.  Not unlike Shakespeare, he makes up words as necessary --  to sound pleasant, rhyme or just sort of mean something more in a less definable way -- in any given song.  Trying to figure those lyrics out -- or trying to make sense of them -- is often an exercise in futility.  However, one of his songs, Tables and Chairs, has some honest words about friendship: 

If we can call them friends we can call them on red telephones
and they won't pretend that they're too busy or they're not alone
if we can call them friends we can call
holler at 'em down these hallowed halls
just don't let the human factor fail to be a factor at all

Do you have a friend or friends that you know will always answer the phone when you call?  To whom you aren't a nuisance or an interruption?  I hope so.  I bet you have a few friends that you aren't so sure about, too.  For whom do you answer that phone?  Friendship is varied, but we all need at least one red telephone friend!  (David was my red telephone friend and I was his.  He was the person who put me above everyone else with his affection, regard, support -- love.  Now I am nobody's most important person.  Although several lovelies have told me that I'm right up there, I know that there is no guarantee that the red phone will be answered when I call.)  This human factor is sort of a continuation of my thoughts on love, but not so readily apparent. 

A quick search on "human factor" yielded some strange stuff!  I happened upon a "definition" from the "urban dictionary" that was new to me:  human factors engineering -- the process and effects of intentionally playing on a person's attributes to achieve a goal, either directly or indirectly.  Huh??  I'm a little stunned that the word "engineering" is a part of this.  One of my other first searches yielded:  human factors -- The study of human interaction with technology/machines.  I further investigated that avenue and found a basic explanation:  Human Factors is a discipline of study that deals with human-machine interface. Human Factors deals with the psychological, social, physical, biological and safety characteristics of a user and the system the user is in.  It is sometimes used synonymously with ergonomics.  Yawn.  This doesn't apply to a discussion on friendship.  And it is nowhere near what I thought it meant, but it is definitely possible that Andrew Bird had just that in mind.  He's that strange -- and cerebral ... but I don't really think so.

I thought I'd look again ... and stumbled upon an obscure website called "International Institute for Human Factor Development."  Their definition is a possible basis for that whole song.

Defining the Human Factor - The Human factor is the spectrum of personality characteristics and the other dimensions of human performance that enable social, economic and political institutions to function and remain functional over time. Such dimensions sustain the workings and application of the rule of law, political harmony, disciplined labor force, just legal systems, respect for human dignity and the sanctity of life, and social welfare, and so on. As is often the case, no social, economic or political institutions can function effectively without being upheld by a network of committed persons who stand firmly by them. Such persons must strongly believe in and continually affirm the ideals of society.

I think that FRIENDSHIP is what continually affirms the ideals of society!  Think about it.  To be in association with someone/anyone who may be one of the following:  someone to whom a person is attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard – or one who gives assistance – a supporter.  Someone who is on good terms with another; a person who is not hostile (not a foe!) -- living in harmony with good rapport, respect and well-being.  Maybe a member of the same nation, party or society.  A comrade, confidant, advocate, ally, associate, confrere, compatriot.  WOW.  I wonder how more peacefully we might co-exist if we could establish these kinds of relationships with everyone! 

But, starting more locally – more intimately, how about just our personal circles.  These definitions don’t mention love, but if we toss that in -- brotherly love, unconditional love and even romantic love -- a virtue representing human kindness, compassion, and affection — the unselfish loyal and benevolent concern for the good of another.  As well as, compassionate and affectionate actions towards other humans -- and patience, kindness, lack of envy, boasting or pride – honoring others – not greedy or easily angered or holding grudges (FORGIVENESS), delighting in truth rather than evil – and protecting, trusting, hoping and persevering.  That’s the kind of friendship that is a big deal – is important – can make a difference.  It is intentional.  How do you accomplish it?

LOVE IN ACTION. 

I think the ideal friendship is one which includes a personal presence -- being in relationship with another in close, physical proximity:  Getting together.  It is difficult to show affection without being able to touch.  It is challenging to show true understanding without being able to see each others' expressions.  It's affirming to be able to see, touch and smell that this person with whom you have a certain rapport is happy and well.  And this takes a certain level of disciple -- the attending to a friendship -- the getting together.  It's like working out.  You have to value it and you have to MAKE TIME in your life to do it.  If you have a lot of friends, it can mean a little juggling, but friendship is a big deal.  Our lives are less vibrant -- less meaningful -- without it.

You certainly can maintain friendships over long distances.  Email, text messaging, facebook, snapchats and red telephones are really great tools in helping us to take care of those friendships.  Sometimes, they can be more rewarding than our day to day friendships because they require more intentionality -- action fed by emotional energy (love).  Some of my long distance friendships are my most precious and enduring ones.  Go figure.  (You have to really want or need to stay friends to make this happen.)

My return from exile would not be possible without my beloved friends.  I want to take this opportunity to thank each of you who has placed my soul, my heart, my mind, my gifts -- my entire being -- on your "short list" -- through your love in action -- with your hand on the red phone.  You know who you are.

What the heck is love, anyway?

There are so many nuances of love, aren't there?  It can get a little maddening trying to figure out which kind of love you should apply to any given situation.  And yet, still, I choose to simplify it.  All that I do, I hope I do, in love.  What does that even mean?

If you live a religious kind of life, you probably know there are three "main" kinds of love:  philos (brotherly), eros (romantic) and agape (unconditional).  I think, for the most part, that the agape love serves as an umbrella for "love in action."  The kind of love that you can show to a family member, a friend, a lover ... a stranger and, yes, an enemy.  But it is most definitely subjective!  If someone acts in a way that they believe to be loving, the receiver can still perceive it as otherwise.  This is where the "agape" attribute really has to kick-in.  The receiver has to understand the heart of the lov-er.  Can you go through life explaining that everything you do and everything you say is from a point of agape love?  Maybe, but how exhausting!

I work in a church and spend a good bit of my life and time within and among my faith community -- my church family.  Agape love "should" be an assumption within the life of the church, right?  Right.  But who decides what is loving and what is not? 

We choose our friends based on mutual value systems and interests, mutual life situations, proximity of our homes, and, yes, how much fun we have together!  But ultimately we chose our friends based on whether or not we believe that they are kind and loving, as well as whether or not we can extend that kindness and love to them, don't you think? Whether or not we can trust them with our hearts and if we are going to be trustworthy with theirs?  If that is the case, then why do we question each others' motives sometimes?  Did we misunderstand their true spirit?  Did they overestimate our capacity to love?  Should we maintain these friendships?  Does love have anything to do with it at all?

I have a lot of friends.  Some I see frequently -- for whatever reason, I am able to spend time with them every week -- or sometimes even every couple of days.  Some friends I see less frequently -- every several weeks and some even every several months.  Why do we remain friends?  LOVE.  These are saints who have shown me their unmistakable loving spirits, as diverse as they may be, and I offer mine to them.  I never question that love is the foundation for all they say and do, at least as it pertains to me and our relationship.  I've had other friends for which I was not assured of the same and they were friends "for a season," but not for the long-run.  I bet you have similar relationships.

I love the writings of John Ortberg, an author, speaker and senior pastor at a Presbyterian Church in California.  Recently one of his facebook posts popped into my newsfeed.  It read:  "Say hard things TO people, but don't say bad things ABOUT people.  This would revolutionize politics, church and the blogosphere."  He's right!  It reminded me of something I used to say to my kids as they headed out to school -- out into the world.  I told them (probably ad nauseam) that they certainly did not have to spend time with kids who were unkind to them, but that they could not be unkind.  Ortberg takes this a step further -- an adult step -- incorporating a Biblical, yet very common-sensical directive to "hold your brother accountable" (admittedly subjective).  That is, to say hard things to people.  I would add:  IN LOVE.  But, again, who decides what is loving?

Have you ever felt like you have endured a refining fire?  It's an Old Testament kind of idea -- a concept of being purified.  Ideally, if we undergo such a refining, then wouldn't our intentions be pure?  of love?  John Piper, a Calvinist Baptist theologian (yeh, I thought that was somewhat oxymoronic myself ... but that's okay!) wrote of God's refining fire: 

A refiner's fire does not destroy indiscriminately like a forest fire. A refiner's fire does not consume completely like the fire of an incinerator. A refiner's fire refines. It purifies. It melts down the bar of silver or gold, separates out the impurities that ruin its value, burns them up, and leaves the silver and gold intact. He is like a refiner's fire.

It does say FIRE. And therefore purity and holiness will always be a dreadful thing. There will always be a proper "fear and trembling" in the process of becoming pure. We learn it from the time we are little children: never play with fire! And it's a good lesson! Therefore, Christianity is never a play thing. And the passion for purity is never flippant. He is like fire and fire is serious. You don't fool around with it.

But it does say, he is like a REFINER'S fire. And therefore this is not merely a word of warning, but a tremendous word of hope. The furnace of affliction in the family of God is always for refinement, never for destruction.

Yes, it's a little harsh -- pretty evangelical, even for me, but I love the part about hope:  Hope -- if we've been refined, even a little bit -- that our intentions have a purity -- a holiness -- about them.  That our LOVE is cradled by the same purity and holiness.  Yay!

But what does Jesus say about love?  Well, a whole lot, of course.  First of all, Jesus personified love -- he was "love incarnate."  We can't really do that because we aren't God.  Okay ... So the big commandment in John 13:34 is a little vague!  Love one another as I have loved you.  (Leave everything behind and follow me, even though you might starve, be naked, wear out your sandals, be run out of town and persecuted.  Yikes.)  In chapter 15 He goes on to say that as the Father loved Him, so He has loved us!!  Wow -- if you use the transitive property or syllogism, that's big.  We are to love each other like God loves.  That even further complicates it, does it not?  How big is God's love?  Bigger than the boogie man, according to Bob the Tomato and Larry the Cucumber.  Still, how is love defined for we Christians? 

Thankfully, we have the two great commandments.  When the Pharisees tried to gang up on Jesus and trick him, asking him what the greatest commandment in "the Law" was, Jesus replied: “ 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’  This is the first and greatest commandment.  And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’  All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”  Matthew 22:37-40

What does it mean to love your neighbor "as yourself"?  I've heard two variances.  One is simply to love your neighbor in the same way you love yourself.  Ugh.  How do you love yourself?  Do you help yourself to a new car every two years?  Go golfing every week?  Dine-out frequently?  How do you translate that self-love to neighbor love?  Are you then called to be as generous or as indulgent with your neighbor as you are with yourself?  Maybe ... or what if it means that we are supposed to love our neighbor(s) at the same time as we love ourselves?  That means something a little different.  It means that it is okay to love ourselves! but we also need to love others.  I like this one.  It is deeper -- more profound.  You may disagree.

Are we painfully honest with ourselves when we stray from the path that God would have us follow (a gentler explanation of sin that I really like)?  Do we stop and examine our behavior and check our compass and redirect?  Can and should we do that for our neighbor(s)?  Is that loving?  Or is that judging?  How can we figure that out?

I like another concept shared by Ortberg, teaching about how we can tell if God is speaking to us or if it's some other voice.  He suggests that we ask ourselves if the "voice" is leading us in a direction toward life ... or in a direction of death.  I think that this is a good litmus test -- even with difficult stuff.  "Say hard things TO people, but don't say bad things ABOUT people."  But what if you're the one to whom someone is saying those hard things?  How can you "hear" them IN LOVE? 

Ortberg wrote of that, too, in his book, God Is Closer Than You Think.  Because he is not only a pastor in a very large church, but also a very well-read author, he is quite vulnerable to criticism.  He  wrote about a time when he was admonished by a stranger following a speaking engagement.  The admonisher pointed out a flaw to the pastor -- nothing "scandalous," but something that Ortberg found to be very embarrassing.  It was hurtful -- cutting -- because it was humiliating to him in that it pointed out "old junk" that he had wrestled with for years -- his Achilles heel.  He began to ponder about how many others also saw this flaw in him and he began to "spiral down into discouragement, paralysis, and self-pity."  It was like death to him.  He stopped the spiral by praying -- asking God to help him guide his thoughts.  (If only we could always remember to do that!)  What happened next is the point.  He began to think that it was exactly what he needed to hear if he wasn't going to get stuck -- that the words could help him grow -- that they identified a concrete piece of behavior that could be changed.  He then went on to consider whether he should want people to think he was better than he was! and, finally, that God loved him anyway and that's what grace is for.  Refined by "fire"?  Was the admonisher speaking out of love?  Let's hope so ... but regardless, Ortberg decided to take it that way.  <sigh>  I want to be like that.  I have an Achilles heel or two that I wrestle with over and over again.  Do you?  Do you want to be loved anyway -- to be given the benefit of the doubt by those who love you -- and give that benefit to those whom you love?  I bet you do.

So what is love?  A simple definition, which I always appreciate, states simply that love can refer to a variety of different feelings, states, and attitudes that ranges from interpersonal affection ("I love my mother") to pleasure ("I loved that meal").  It can refer to an emotion of a strong attraction and personal attachment.  It can also be a virtue representing human kindness, compassion, and affection—"the unselfish loyal and benevolent concern for the good of another".  As well, it may describe compassionate and affectionate actions towards other humans, one's self or animals.

So, if your words and actions are undergirded by affection, attachment, kindness, compassion, unselfishness, loyalty, benevolence, concern -- you're doing pretty well in the love department.

Still, I always refer to the teachings -- the preachings -- of an unexpectedly humble man named Paul (formerly Saul of Tarsus -- persecutor of Christians before his personal Road to Damascus) -- as written with great encouragement to first century Corinthians: 

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.  Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.  Love never fails.  (I Corinthians 13:4-8a)

And, to reiterate... And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.  (I Corinthians 13:13) 

No kidding.