It Isn’t Love

Love may have pulled us together with want and adventure. Love may crackle between us–beautiful, fun, exciting, and powerful. But we both know that you can love someone and not have or give what you need because that’s how we loved each other as teenagers. And that kind of love doesn’t last. Thankfully, we made better use of our second chance than our first and the longer our love goes on, the more I realize all that it isn’t.

It isn’t love that deepens, that’s respect.

It isn’t love that gets stronger, that’s trust.

It isn’t love that brings an end to insecurity, that’s intimacy.

It isn’t love that apologizes, that’s humility.

And it isn’t love that forgives mistakes, that’s grace.

Sixteen years and my love for you is still burning as bright and hot as when it first began but so much stronger and steadier now because of all those other things.

It’s those things that have sustained us through our life’s lowest lows and brought us up to our highest highs. And it’s not just that I can rely on you for them, but also that you’re a man I want to give them to, that keeps your ring on my finger and my heart in your hands. Of course, I love you, darlin’, but that’s not nearly all. : )

In the Garden (a mushy repost from 2013)

I have been aching to write and working on new things when I can, but while I do that, I’m going to go ahead and repost a few favorite oldies.  This one was written in the spring of 2013 when Carl and I had been married three years and were reviving his hop tower for its second season.  It feels like the perfect time to share it again.  Partly because this summer we’ll have been married ten years.  Partly because we’re almost ready to transplant our seed starts to the garden box outside.  And mostly because I still feel just this way about my man.  : )

Redneck Hop Farming

 

In the Garden

I am watching our hands in the garden
yours with the snips cutting away,
mine pulling last year’s dried vines
from the soft green shoots trying to come up

I am watching our hands in the garden
yours are big and calloused
but I find only gentleness and comfort in them.
While mine seem so small by comparison
but I don’t have to prove their strength
or worth to you.

I am watching our hands in the garden
and I love the way they work
together, yet apart
different tasks but a common goal . . .

Our wedding rings gleam in the fading sunlight
as our fingers dance in the dirt
we are building more than a hop garden–
we are tending our dreams.