on Love, part one
Yesterday was my anniversary.
I pledged my life to my someone on that very day five years ago, barefoot under a hundred year-old oak tree, and told him that our love was ours.
How we nurtured it, fed it, pushed it down the List of Important Things, set it on a shelf, let it scare us, watched it make us who we are, is the story I'll be writing for the rest of my life.
When I want to write and talk about it now, I use a very specific approach that I need to share with you.
Excerpt from "Long Walks"
And maybe get everything all wrong.
I can't get or set the record straight.
We took long walks together.
I guess we don't know the same long walks. A blessed particular
to one may look like something else or nothing to another.
-Jim W. Corder, from Yonder: Life on the Far Side of Change
A blessed particular.
Pieces of you I honor and worship.
This is how I see Love, and how I practice Love.
You and I may use the same word--Love--to get at these feelings, but we are not describing the same Love.
My love is mine.
Your love is yours.
Remember that words are imperfect, incomplete tools. They can get at it, walk around it, try to hold it--but they don't know the dimensions of his hands or the warmth of her light.
The blessed particulars of my Love (of me and him and who we turn one another into and away from) are what make it mine and ours.
The blessed particulars are what only I have the privilege of seeing and knowing with both hands for my whole life.
When I speak of them, you hear the awe of beholding another human life in my heart, bearing witness to every freckle and second of disappointment and valley of loss.
It is awesome.
Humility and strength walking the longest road with fingers intertwined.
The everyday and eternal choices.
The perfectly burned bagel with honey pecan cream cheese and tenderness of an entire person laying beside you in midnight black and Solidago gold.
The gospel truth of forever alongside crawling hours and the quickest seconds.