I guess Brian & I were like any typical teenage couple. We couldn't be together enough, couldn't be apart too long, couldn't wait to spend the rest of our lives together. Well, maybe that last one was just me. I jest. Maybe.
At any rate, the things we defined as love in our teens were different from the things we defined as love in our twenties were different from things we defined as love in our thirties and all those were even different from what we define as love now, as one of us has already begun their forties. Getting married so young meant literally growing older and growing up together if we really meant those words we said that day twenty-one years ago.
Love in our teens was very typical for young love. Lots of romance & gifts. Long calls on the long distance phone. (You'll have to look that one up kids....) Handwritten notes & cards. Boxes with trinkets commemorating our "anniversaries". Then, we got married.
Now, for those of you that know us now, you might be shocked to know that love in our twenties meant lots of fighting & just staying with it. Those first years together as husband and wife are years that I would never go back and live again. But they have made me, made us, who we are today. Gifts turned into packages of diapers. Dates turned into bill money. With alternating schedules, handwritten notes looked more like something a teacher would send home - "Today I really could have used your help but I know you'll try better next time. ♡" The heart meant to mask the dripping sarcasm & passive aggressive tone, of course. Baby one, baby two, baby three and even baby four arrived during that oh so fun time as arguments about money & "quality time" filled the air of the 1050sq ft home we made. Our thirties couldn't come fast enough.
By the time they arrived, patterns & routines had been established. We both realized either the money was there or it wasn't & the one person we fought with about it was the one person on the same team. We only had one year of diapers & sleepless nights left. We could do this! And so, we did. Gifts started re-emerging again but they looked a little different. Instead of flowers & chocolates, a crockpot was great! Forget the jewelry, I never wear it anyway. I want a vacuum cleaner that works please. You want to watch another football game? Ok. But the best gift of all? Who would take the first shower. Before we knew it was even happening, love went from something we were doing to something we simply were being. Being aware. Being available. Being second.
Now, as we've (almost) entered this new decade together, love again is different. Some days it is - Really, sports again? Other days it's a text with a picture of a penned on wedding ring and an "Oops, look what I forgot today." Gifts today are wonderful, cherished Symphony bars. Love looks like the trash taken to the end of the driveway or dinner actually ready when he gets home. Grooves & routine are just that. Habit. We are set. But then there are those moments when love goes above & beyond, taking me back to where it all began.
For me, this week, those moments have strung together. Steriod injections Monday warranted flowers & an early birthday card that made me cry when I got home that night. Tuesday it was the quality time I was given to recuperate by having the whole day off while he filled my homeschool mom shoes. With a storm Wednesday morning, we divided and conquered - Brian cooked dinner & I searched for flashlights, batteries, fans & other basic supplies. But we're (almost both) in our forties now. Thursday would be different.
I, thinking I was being the selfless one, sent him to gma's to take his shower. I would have a simple bath here, at our house, by warming pots of water outside on the burner. So selfless, right? But I watched as one stockpot, two stockpots, three stockpots, FOUR STOCKPOTS were warmed & carried for me to the bathtub. With temps in the high 70s & a humidity of 85%, the shower he had taken an hour before had been pointless. But there he was, not complaining a bit, even when the plug drained & he started all over again.
You see, sometimes love IS flowers & chocolates. Sometimes it's diapers & there's a whole lot of crying, from everyone. Sometimes it's in realizing you're on the same team & dividing to conquer. But sometimes, love looks like a pot of hot water. Gentle filled, lovingly poured out, refilled again & again.
There was nothing for him to gain from that constant pouring out other than the smile on my face. For me, it was the reminder that sometimes I think I'm being selfless but love is really about being poured out, over and over again. Even when I don't want to, even when it's uncomfortable, even when I think I've done my fair share. Love, true love, is always about being poured out.
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