Love is Love

There was a storm raging and so was my heart. It demanded to be heard and heeded. My heart was hurting. I couldn’t feel the wind but I could hear it. The wind and its incessant need to be acknowledged. 

The change of the season has a funny way of bringing things to the surface. There was a great shaking in me this time. It shook loose the grief I had hidden away, the grief I though I wasn’t entitled to. There is no monopoly on grief, pain, or trauma. So I will sit with grief awhile and listen to all it has to tell. 


It’s funny, in a way that’s not very funny, that we as humans think some pain is more valid than others. And that some love it greater than others. Some love is stronger but love is love. Sometimes love hurts, like missing people or missing yourself. But love is love. I’ve said it before but english falls so short when it comes to love. 


This grief of mine is different than the last time. It’s not a grownup kind of grief, there’s no weeping in the shower, no screaming at the top of my lungs, no tearing my hair out. This is a child’s grief. The holding your teddy bear and wandering aimlessly feeling somewhat hollow kind of grief. I feel like a little kid again. Hoping that if I hold tight the monsters won’t be able to get me. I’ve come to learn there is no monster this side of heaven that could ever do the kind of damage that untended pain does. 


So strange this path I’ve found myself on. My heart has much to tell and is in no rush to do so. It is content to simple walk and somehow it makes more sense than anything that came before. I suppose that’s all we can all do this time. Just continue on down that path we choose and see where it leads. 


This “second wave” is somehow stranger than the first because somewhere along the way it became normal. But love is love, right? I believe we could all use a little more love lately. Love for yourself and love for others. 


Love is love, and if 1 Corinthians 13:2 is to believed than this whole thing, this whole life isn’t worth it, it’s nothing, without love. I’m not even sure what to do with that, it’s a heavy truth. One I’ve only begun to scratch the surface of. 


My heart is in a contradicting sort of state. It’s wrestling with grief and yet proclaiming the great importance of love. It is a weird healing sort of place I’m in and it makes little sense. 


But love is love, and I’ll hold onto that until grief has taught me all it needs to. Then maybe I’ll feel a little more okay. Maybe I won’t be so stuck on love. But love the person is love. So I suppose being stuck on the concept of love is a little more than alright.

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