Measured in Love

Good Sunday late morning/early afternoon,

One of the most difficult things in life is being able to love another person, consistently, persistently, and certainly completely. I am not sure I realized early in life that it would be so difficult, but at this point, as someone retired as well as someone single for a significant amount of time, I have had some time to do some rather deep introspection, and I wonder if I was ever capable of profoundly, unconditionally (at least to the best of my ability) love another person who was not a relative. I wonder if at this point, as someone hopefully wiser, more fair and perhaps kinder, might I even be willing to entertain such a possibility? Loving another person requires incredible sacrifice. I remember after my divorce my father, whose advice or reflection was always profoundly sage, stated, “The people you love the most will always hurt you the worst.” He followed, “Not because they intend to, but because that is how it is.” What he was noting was the reality of how vulnerable we are when we love someone.

If I think carefully and examine life honestly, thoroughly, I am not sure I have ever loved someone unconditionally, and to realize that as someone twice married, that is a difficult and sad admission. Was I merely a failure? The struggle to love completely, to give without condition, was (and is) a struggle because I have perhaps only one example of that sort of love, and it was from a grandparent. I did not see it exhibited in any marital relationship that I witnessed deeply enough, often enough, to know if that is what was occurring. I think there might have been a couple of those incredible relationships in the church I attended, but that is conjecture. Again, I do not want to disparage the people I did know, and certainly gender roles and expectations were different in the 1960s-70s, but I find it disturbing if couples stayed together merely because they were supposed to, and what occurred was merely occupying or existing in a space together.

Loving (or believing I loved) someone is a tremendously hopeful emotion. Somewhat like your first crush, the intensity of that is life-altering. But how does one move from infatuation to loving someone? One of my rather “mantra-style” lines in a marital service is the need for love to grow and mature beyond the wedding day idealism. And such an admonishment is reasonable and fair, but how does it occur? Another thing I realize at this point, is the opposite of loving someone is not hating them; it is not caring about them at all – it is complete indifference. It is the ability to have no real emotion toward someone. As terrible as that might sound, I know of this position with more than one person, a person, who at one point held an important place in my life. Is that unfair or is it self-preservation as life evolved? Perhaps both. Returning to the opening sentence of the paragraph, perhaps it occurs when all hope for any reasonable response, caring response, is lost.

So is love necessary for a healthy outlook on life? If so, what does that love look like? How is it practiced (and like anything desirable, I think it takes practice)? Are there people outside family I love at this point? I believe they do exist, and that is a good thing. What I have been compelled to realize is love is something so profound that I am not sure I can describe it. There are moments I have to ask if I am, perhaps, infatuated with the idea of being in love, that romantic, hopeful, happily/ever-after, care for the other that makes them the queen!? Does it sound like unparalleled idealism? Indeed, it does. Is it because I want a fairytale or somehow I need it? That is a difficult question.

Can love be measured, returning to my title? Should it be measured? To ask if there are people in my life worthy of love (that implies measurement or conditionality, which is a problem) would be a question that is fraught with problems, but nonetheless, I am hoping to pose it. Because I should? No, but it is because I think too often it is how we quantify the emotion. What I am pushed to consider is can we love the other regardless their lovableness? Can we become the love we are Biblically commanded to be? The very statement or grammatical reality of the “to be” is intrinsically related to the Biblical response of Yahweh to Moses in the burning bush “I am.” What he it implies is love it not simply an emotion; it is an essence. It is who we are. It is who we are to be. Therein lies the unconditionality of it. It is summarily who we are called to be, perhaps expected to be by others. Can that be true? And yet, it is difficult because we have few if any examples. Perhaps a Mother Theresa, a Saint Francis? And yet even they are only what or who I have been told. How do I live a life that is measured in love?

Much like the incredible song from the Rent, soundtrack, it is in the moments, the minutes, and a collection of them. As I ponder, it is about an honesty and unselfishness that goes beyond what people expect. It is in a vulnerability, and yet, a reality of understanding that we live in a dishonest and selfish world. Again, it is at this precise instance we come face-to-face with the rub, the difficulty. To unconditionally love is to demand, require, or expect nothing in return. There is no measuring; there is only doing. It is the ultimate vulnerability. Are we capable of such a taking such a chance? It the practice different when it is an intimate relationship versus one that has no physical element? Somehow, I believe, for me, the lack of physicality makes it more likely. That, again, is a rather strange realization. The two people I feel most confident that I can say I love, I have not been romantically involved with. They have been in my life for a significant time, on from childhood and the other for half their life. There is a third, and they are the first person I loved as an adult, albeit a very immature young man, and someone who still today teaches me about love. It begs the question, what is the difference between unconditional love and being deeply in love with someone? Is being in love with them something involuntary? Something beyond our control? While certainly emotional, is it a decision or does it just happen? Again, my father said, “When you meet the right one, you can do nothing about it. It is.” Again, a grammatical relative to I am. Loving someone or living a life that radiates love is something different. It is what I wish to do; how I want to live the remainder of my life. But how? Is it giving without expectation? Is it trying in a Biblical way turning the other cheek, giving the other your cloak, tying their sandal? Is unconditional love the reality of being altruistic? Seems worth pondering. What I struggle to determine is can I desire a certain degree of solitude and still base my actions in love? On one hand the answer seems to be a simple, of course. On the other, can I be loving as well as decidedly separate, or involved with unconditional care and be removed simultaneously? How might it all be measured? Seems I have no answer, but lots of questions.

Thank you for reading.

Michael