Where There is Love, There is Life

I am learning, learning, learning about love. Everyday. All the time. Not just romantic love, because, HELLOOO– Terrifying. But real love. All kinds of love. What it is. What it’s not. What feels like love. What decidedly does NOT feel like love. I even have a Pinterest board called, “Love or Something Like It” that I’ve been working on for a while now. 389 pins. But who’s counting? I know the name seems a little vague, but here’s the thing– We think OF COURSE we know what love is. But do we really? I don’t always know that I do. But I do know I want to get better at it. All of it. (So it’s almost like Pinterest is EDUCATIONAL. Smiling. I am totally smiling at this thought.)

And so recently, while I was ruminating about love, I unintentionally had identical conversations with two different people who land on two totally different paradigms of what is a very messy issue~

Conversation #1:

A friend and I are chatting casually about God, church, relationships and such. She talks about being raised in a deeply religious home, with extremely zealous parents, particularly her father. She refers to him as the type of guy who would stand on street corners downtown, handing out Christian literature and telling people Jesus loves them. (I know. Cringe worthy) But she went on to say that her dad is THE kindest person she knows. Super loving, super friendly. And then somehow, segues into telling me that her brother is gay.

“Ohhhh man. In such a religious family, how the heck did that go over? How did your parents handle that?” I asked in total wonder. (Sadly preparing for the worst.)

“They were actually okay about it. I mean, it was hard, but it’s their son. They love him and support him. What could they do about it? We’re all close. It’s fine. I mean, we love him.”

Conversation #2:

Another close friend and I are chatting. She is lamenting that she has not heard from her son, who also happens to be gay. She can’t understand why he doesn’t come to visit. Rarely calls. Doesn’t seem to make time for her. She misses him. She has, however, made it repeatedly clear that she does not accept that he is gay. Does not approve of his lifestyle. Cannot condone it. Refuses to try to understand. To try and…adjust. And no, he is not welcome to bring his partner when he visits. She will not have “that” in her home. ‘He needs to respect her beliefs and her wishes.’ And so there she sits. Alone. And sad. But by God, sticking to her principles. And while I try to empathize with the seeming complexity of the issue, I’m so struck by the fact that she could make different choices that would lead to better outcomes– and yet how she would rather draw a hard-line, regardless of the cost and loss it has led to.

I get that this can be complicated. And messy. And gray. And I also get that very many of you will absolutely land squarely on one side or the other, with no doubt in your mind and actually tell me that it’s clearly black and white for you. I can’t answer tough theological questions about it. I can’t even say anything all that profound about it. And it’s totally within the realm of the way I think to actually hold a few opposing thoughts about the whole thing. But I can tell you this: I know which one feels like love. And which one doesn’t.

Conversation #1 felt like love to me. It felt like Jesus-love to me, because I’m quite sure it was sacrificial love; As though this mom and dad had a love so big, and so wide, and so deep, they were able to lay down their “rights” as parents, their need for religion to reign, so that love could reign instead. It saved their family, but it also may have saved their son. I walked away feeling grateful. Grateful for generous love. Grateful for love that accepts, forgives, overlooks, embraces. For love that leads to life.

Conversation #2 was hard. It was frustrating. Stiff. Stubborn. It was sad. I couldn’t help but think about the years that are being wasted while they both miss out on so much because of my friend’s daily conscious choice to not love her son unconditionally. It has felt hopeless to try to expand her thinking in any way~

I get that you have your beliefs. I get that it makes you uncomfortable. But what I don’t get is your inability to set all of that aside for the sake of love. For the sake of your son. For the sake of wholeness in your family. And really, for your own sake. I know you– and I want to believe that you possess bigger love than that in the deepest places of your heart. After all, you love ME– and damn if I couldn’t give you a thousand reasons why I’m not entirely worthy of love either.

The lack of love here has led to death– the death of relationships, of family, of connection. And it’s being grieved daily. By both parties.

I think what makes me most sad is that my friend thinks she’s loving Jesus in her convictions. And so that’s why I try so very hard not to judge her. She.Thinks.She’s Loving.Jesus. By refusing to accept her son and his lifestyle. And it reminds me of all the times I thought I was loving Jesus by judging and correcting and refusing to accept. And I grieve that now. That misperception of love. That disullisionment.

I certainly could never claim to know exactly what Jesus is thinking. But everywhere I look in the Bible, love comes first. Always. Love above everything else. Because love leads to life. And if we’re still ever asking the question, “What would Jesus do?”, I can’t help but think it seems pretty clear. Maya Angelou once said, “When you know better, you do better.” And when it comes to love, all I know is, I want to do better.

If this is an issue you wrestle with and you’d like to read more, please read about one couple’s heartrending journey with their son over at Rage Against the Minivan.

Love Me Extra Today

You guys- I saw this quote on a pin late last night when I was working the Pinterest graveyard shift (any girl will tell you- YES- that’s a thing) and it’s totally messing me up today. Imagine this? Imagine if love was really this simple? Imagine if we could just say to each other, on really tough days- stressful days- insecure days- sad days-overwhelming days, ‘Love me extra today’?

I love John Mayer’s music. And even though he was apparently a total DB to Taylor Swift, whom I. Adore. I’m trying to overlook that for a few moments here. (And Mom, I’ll tell you what DB means later.) His music is the perfect combination of passion and angst- and sort of predictably, Heartbreak Warfare is one of my favorite songs:

If you want more love, why don’t you say so?

If you want more love, why don’t you say so?

But I wanna know: Can people really do this? Do you guys love like this? If you want more love, can you really just say so? I’m trying to figure out if this is …legit. Could we really just tell the people in our lives so plainly on the days we need extra love? (Maybe you guys already do this easily and you know…it’s just ME that’s having an awakening here.)

I am a semi-recover[ing]{ed} self-proclaimed Queen of Passive Aggressive Behavior (I know. It’s not good. I’m working on it and I’ve gotten better. For real though.) For myself and other PA types, asking for what we need is hard. But this seems easy. Too easy. Even I could ~~text this~~ say this. I could have the courage to ask for extra love on tough days. And I could hear this request from someone else and not feel defensive or threatened or… like I was not enough.

I want my girls to know this, my boy to know this, the people in my life that I love and that love me–Because this isn’t just about lovers. It’s about all of us being able to identify our own needs and love better. When we ask for what we need, we’re loving better. This feels revolutionary to me. I know maybe it’s not– but the simplicity of it all moves me. Asking for more love. Saying ‘Love me extra today’ feels like a novel concept- A beautiful novel concept.

Simply ask for more love.

Somebody, talk to me. Tell me what you think.

The Art of Offense and Apologies

The years before I got divorced, the year I got divorced and the year following my divorce, as you can seriously only imagine, have been rich with offense and apology. Constantly. Continuously. Exhaustingly so. And not just with the obvious principal players, but with lots of people in my tribe. And on the real, possibly more offense than apology.

But isn’t this about how it goes for everyone? Relationships. Gah. Seriously. I love ’em and hate ’em all at the same time. There are a few people in my life that frustrate the hell out of me and I want to throw them off a cliff and then run to the bottom to catch them. Because I love them. But for whatever reason, we can’t seem to get an easy vibe going. Which means miscommunication. Misunderstood feelings. Unmet expectations. And Mexican stand-offs. (Sorry to the Mexicans. Sorry. It’s just an expression, yes?)

And so the offense/apology circle is a pitted and well-traveled path. But there are bits and pieces to it that get sort of muddy at times. And so this is what I’d like to offer:

The person who has done the offending

REGARDLESS OF INTENTION

Does not get to judge whether or not the offended person should be offended

You should probably reread that. It might take a second or third look

{Feel free to sub out the word “offended” for whatever flies your kite: insulted, hurt, degraded, humiliated. We run an equal opportunity shit show here}

And before anyone gets crazy, I’m strictly referring to one-on-one personal relationships here; Not to social media/political correctness/Merry Christmas and rainbow-flag-waving type of “offenses”. Those are a totally different type of headache. Like a migraine.

The thing is this– If I’ve hurt you, whether or not I intended to, if I value our relationship and am seeking to live at peace with others as much as possible, then I need to apologize. Period. You get to feel what you feel and I don’t get to decide if it’s valid or not. Because truthfully, the thickness of our skin is as varied as the colors of it. Totally. Completely. Different.

And how I see it

Is not necessarily how it is

It’s only how I see it

We, each one of us, are masterful lawyers at defending our own feelings and intentions, but incredibly tough judges when it comes to measuring someone else’s.

Saying you’re sorry doesn’t have to mean you were wrong; Saying you’re sorry means that you want to take tender care of another person’s heart and feelings. Being an attentive, mindful caretaker is an important part of growing healthy, soulful, connected relationships.

And so if we can learn to live with this as a core value– to cause as little harm to others as possible– and apologize quickly and easily if and when we do cause hurt or harm, no matter how right we think we are, it will change the atmosphere we live in. And changing the atmosphere changes the world. And at the end of the day, I want to be a world-changer more than I want to be right. Do it with me?

Grace & One-Way Love

I had a difficult conversation with someone this morning. Not difficult as in confrontational; Difficult as in emotionally raw. Vulnerable. Tender…Difficult. This person was needing and asking me to extend a measure of grace and without hesitation, although perhaps (and then again, maybe not) against all reason, or odds or…I don’t quite know…history? I freely gave it. I didn’t have to think twice. They did not specifically ask for grace– but that was the tone of our conversation. And I did not specifically say, “Here is grace. Please have it.” That is not usually how grace is exchanged. But there is a moment when one person has a need or weakness and another person simultaneously has the terrifying power to so easily and unnecessarily hurt or cause suffering…and chooses not to. And it is so soothing and tenuous and frightening. And I am not acting as a self-proclaimed Grace-Giver here– spouting off about it would be the antithesis to graceful. I almost feel as though I am observing it objectively– because let’s be honest and clear– I do not always give grace. And I do not always give grace freely. In our base humanity, there are times each one of us gives “grace” with many many spoken or unspoken conditions attached. And this is not grace at all.

And so all day long I have ruminated about the nature of grace. About what it means. What it feels like to give grace and receive grace. About unmerited favor. Undeserving mercy. And it has kept the tears close to the surface. There is something achingly beautiful and fragile and fervent about the nature of grace that is undoing me today.

And perhaps that is why this morning’s conversation is affecting the landscape of my heart so deeply today. Because life is hard. And grace makes hard things easier.

What, exactly, do I mean by grace?

“Grace is love that seeks you out when you have nothing to give in return. Grace is love coming at you that has nothing to do with you. Grace is being loved when you are unlovable…. The cliché definition of grace is “unconditional love.” It is a true cliché, for it is a good description of the thing. Let’s go a little further, though. Grace is a love that has nothing to do with you, the beloved. It has everything and only to do with the lover. Grace is irrational in the sense that it has nothing to do with weights and measures. It has nothing to do with my intrinsic qualities or so-called “gifts” (whatever they may be). It reflects a decision on the part of the giver, the one who loves, in relation to the receiver, the one who is loved, that negates any qualifications the receiver may personally hold…. Grace is one-way love.” – Paul Zahl, as quoted in William Tullian’s book, One -Way Love.

And so may we–more often these days–find ourselves on both ends of such love and grace. Because in the end, we are all just walking each other home. (Ram Dass)

Monday is for Lovers

Ahhh, my beautiful Monday. You, my love, are a fresh, new day to begin again. You are a totally smooth and sexy blank slate. You are a gorgeous, lithe white sheet of paper. I GET to have you and I cannot wait. I’m choosing you on purpose. I’m choosing you with passion. I’m choosing you intentionally. And I’m going to breathe you in and love you inside out. Those nights I lie awake dreading your return? So done and over that. Look at me, first-born day of the week- look right into my sparkling green eyes: I love you. I’m consciously going to choose happiness over suffering today so that I can luxuriate in every.delicious.part.of.you. How could I not want you and all that you’re offering? So come hither, Monday. If how you spend your days is how you spend your life– then today– whatever it is, I’m going to make it happen. At the end of it all, I will have no regrets on how I passed the time. And on my last day, instead of a sigh of relief, I will be looking around saying to myself, “I hope this isn’t over just yet.”

To Believe in Love. Or Not.

On a recent snow day my girls and I had settled in to watch Yours, Mine and Ours–a favorite movie from a few years back. The storyline gets laid out pretty quickly: Widow meets widower, they fall in love, get married, and proceed to merge 18 kids into one very messy blended family. And as the new family bickered and snickered and generally acted ugly toward each other, Emery (age 11), looked at me with mock horror. “Don’t ever do that to us! I don’t want to share a room and do all that!” She was kidding, but not really. And so I laughed and reassured her. “Don’t worry Em. I won’t.” And then, before I could back the truck up, this is what flew out of my mouth:

“I don’t think I ever want to get married again, anyway.” And in witty Emery fashion, she gave me a knowing look and asked, “Too much disappointment?”

I nearly spit out my drink. She knew she was being snarky with her little assessment of my unfortunate marital history (widowed and divorced)– and so I laughed and smiled back.

“Yes. Yes that’s exactly it.”

And that was that. We ate our popcorn and scoffed and marveled at the comical antics of this crazy blended family. (IF ONLY, people! If ONLY blended families were THAT much FUN.)

But that little dialogue stuck with me. Partly because of Emery’s very insightful question that seemed well above her age and maturity level. But MAINLY because of my quick answer and the very clear message I was sending my daughters in that moment:I don’t believe in lasting love. I don’t believe in marriage. I don’t believe in happily ever after. And I certainly don’t want to take THAT risk again. Big. Heavy. Sigh. Oops. (But let’s be honest- married 3 times?? No offense…but no thanks. And I’m not quite sure my mother could survive another marriage with me anyhow. Thanks, Mom. I owe you. Like, in such a big, big way.)

And yet here’s the tricky part. I do believe in those things. Well…I sort of do. Well, I sort of do for other people but just not for me. (Clearly, I’m still working this out) In just about every other area of my life, I am the eternal optimist. I am a glass half-full kinda girl. I believe in silver linings. I look for the bright side. I believe in the sweetness of life and that it somehow eases the bitter. When life throws me a plot twist I’m usually pretty quick to find the positive. I believe that things have a way of working out. Blah, blah, blah. But love…ughhh. Love is a whole different beast. Love has been…hard.

So. I need to do better.

Because it’s not okay with me if my girls think this way.

It’s not okay if I’ve somehow made them afraid of love or relationships or marriage.

It’s not okay if I’ve unintentionally sent the message that love will disappoint you. It will not win. It will not work out. It’s not okay to steal their girlhood dreams of Happily Ever After and Prince Charming and the Knight on the White Horse. I don’t want to tell them to be realistic. I don’t want to tell them there’s no such thing as true and lasting love. And I don’t want them believing it’s not possible for them. And in my heart of hearts, I don’t want to believe it’s not possible for me, either. So. Yeah. There’s that.

‘I asked her if she believed in love, and she smiled and said it was her most elaborate form of self-harm.’ ~Benedict Smith

Happy Valentine’s Day to Me

Let me start by saying right away that this is not an endorsement for the single life. Or divorce. I’m not a “Love Stinks” kinda girl. So relax. I’ll talk about all of that another day. But not today.

Today is about love.

And for the first time in about 13 years or so, I’ve decided that today is about me. I am alone. Alone, as in, I don’t have a Valentine. I’m not part of a couple. And please, my Evangelical friends, please don’t say Jesus is my Valentine. Or husband. Or any of those other well-meaning but weird things that get tossed around. I have some friends in my circle who hate this holiday. And depending on what your normal V-Day experience usually is, I totally get why any man OR woman WOULD hate it– but honestly, as I was thinking about its impending arrival this year, I’m happy to say, I feel fine. I feel better than fine. I feel good. I feel happy. I feel peaceful. Because the truth is, I think I’ve found the one. And it’s me.

I think I’m the one. And so far, it’s really working out.

Having been both widowed and divorced within the past 15 years…let’s just say there aren’t a lot of Hallmark cards that fit. And somewhere along the way, within these difficult years of survival, I lost myself. I became perhaps overly engrossed in my roles of perfect mother and perfect wife (so I thought) and lost my identity. I take responsibility for this. Nobody DID this to me but me, and nobody is responsible for changing this but me. And that’s exactly what I’m doing now. I’m creating and designing a life that I love. And along the way, I have fallen in love with myself again and the things I love to do. Things I forgot about. Things that feed my soul and spark my brain and light my fire. I’m dating myself. And honestly? I am amazing company. I’m smart. I’m interesting. I’m fun. Sometimes we read, we run, we shop. We work on projects around the house. We lunch. We go to dinner. We have a beer. We catch a movie. That’s right. Just me and myself.

And instead of feeling lonely, I feel alive.

There’s so much love in my life that has nothing to do with being part of a couple. Today and every day is about loving my kids, my parents and the other friends and family I’m surrounded by. In spite of my experiences, I’m still totally a love kinda girl– I got cards. I got flowers. I got chocolate (including some ah-mazing chocolate covered bacon. Swoon.) I feel totally spoiled–not by lovers–just people who love me. And there are a lot. And that doesn’t just make for a Happy Valentine’s Day-that makes for a happy life. And the best part of the love I have in my life now is that it’s constant. It’s not just about a feel-good (or crappy) holiday. The Valentines in my life loved me yesterday and they will love me tomorrow and today just happens to be another day that we spoil each other.

Look around your life today and see all the love. It’s not a loveless day just because you’re not part of a couple. Look in the mirror and admire yourself. Rediscover yourself. Whether you love this day or hate it, I bet you actually don’t have to look that far to find love. I’m looking in the mirror today –and I’m completely smitten.

How do YOU feel about Valentine’s Day, love bugs?

Truly Julie

"I am mine before I am ever anyone else's."- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Love