The Limits of Love

I've been thinking a lot about love.  As I reflected a past post, we have been given a working definition of what love should be.  However, the more I think about it, the more I realize that vision of love is the ideal.  It would be really great if we could all love each other with the selflessness and purity that the Apostle Paul lays out, but that is an exceedingly rare thing.  Does that mean, then, that if we cannot achieve this ideal, that we do not love?

Absolutely not!

As I look at how I've grown over the course of this project, I can see changes in myself.  I'm more comfortable in my own skin and more forgiving of my mistakes and shortcomings.  I'm kinder to myself, less critical. more accepting.  And as this kindness has grown, I find it much easier to extend it to the people in my life.  It's easier to be around the people in my life - especially my children.  My relationships are more relaxed, less forced, and more comfortable.  It seems that as my self-love grows, so too does my ability to love others grow.

It seems that we love others the way we love ourselves.  If we love ourselves with contingencies, qualifications and strings, then that is the way we will love others.  If we love ourselves wholly, then we can love others wholly.  Our self love sets the parameters for the love we can give others.  Those are the limits of love.

Suddenly, it makes sense to me!  Rumi writes, "Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it."  Our self loathing, harsh judgement and fears are the barriers.  They are the things that keep us from truly being able to love.    If we do not feel ourselves deserving of a whole, complete, and unconditional love, then we simply cannot accept it.  Loving yourself - for the messed up, flawed, awkward, selfish, petty person you are is the key to everything. 

I consider this truth, and realize that I was mistaken about those past relationships that I had determined to not be love.  Just because we didn't live up to the ideal doesn't mean it wasn't love.  We did the best we could at the time.  (We ALL do the best we can with what we have available at the time.)  The love I was able to receive was limited by my self love, just as the love my partners could accept from me was limited by theirs.  It wasn't premeditated or intentional; we just ran up against the barriers we had within ourselves.  This realization helps the lingering hurt and bitterness to just dissipate, and brings me so much peace. I don't have to be angry because someone didn't love me the way I needed to be loved.  And I don't have to punish myself for not being able to do the same.  I can acknowledge the experience, learn from it, and add it to the wisdom that I am collecting with age.  I can accept it for what it was, be grateful for the opportunity, and use that to open my heart just a little bit more.

And that's one more barrier removed.

Act 35: Cook Dinner for Families at the Ronald McDonald House

I added this act to my list because I wanted a balance.  I had a bunch of frivolous and self-indulgent acts, but I wanted to do something that would be of service to others as well.  Turns out, if you are so inclined, there are many, many opportunities in the Triangle area to pitch in and volunteer.  In fact, there is an entire meetup group - Triangle Do-Gooders - devoted to just that.

I chose the Ronald McDonald house because it was close by, and I chose to cook dinner because that's something I know how to do.  I kind of thought this would be an easy item to check off the list, and one that I could pat myself on the back for being a good and helpful citizen.  I didn't expect it to take 4 months for me to be able to write about it.

First of all, the process for signing up for dinner was pretty painless.  I RSVPed for an event as soon as it was listed.  These things fill up quickly!   There is a group coordinator, Nancy, who does all the menu planning and shopping.  On this particular night, we were serving baked chicken, mashed potatoes, roasted carrots and apples, and salad.  Before we met in the kitchen at the RMH, Nancy had

already deboned about 18 pounds of chicken.  We had 10 pounds of potatoes, 6 pounds of carrots, and 4 bags of apples that needed to be peeled, prepped, and cooked.  The crew for dinner that night was 8 people, plus Nancy.  We all set about industriously peeling.

Every time one of us would finish a task, we'd go to Nancy.  "Now what can I do?"  She must have answered that question 59 times, but each time, she pleasantly assigned the next task and went right back to what she was doing.  Her strategy would rival an army general in its precision and efficiency.  Slice these lemons.  Prep that salad.  Melt the butter for this.  Whip up those potatoes.  It seemed like no time at all before we were putting out platters of food for the families.  Before they went on the buffet, Nancy gave them a final check - to make sure they were garnished and beautiful.

I thought my work was done, but then the families started to trickle down to the kitchen.  I don't know what I was expecting, but I was surprised to see their diversity.  It occurred to me that illness doesn't discriminate between rich and poor, brown or pale.  All the families I saw were in crisis.  And they each seemed so insular in their pain.

It was hard for me to consider, because I kept thinking about The Boy and The Girl.  I have two healthy and wonderful children. They've never had to fight for their lives.  I felt guilty for my good fortune and afraid to get too close - as if by doing so would cause something to rub off on us.  I know that's silly, and I know that's small, but that's what it was.

We were cleaning up when a woman in her early 40s came charging into the kitchen with her husband and two small girls in tow.  Nancy welcomed the family and directed them to the dinner that had been prepared, but this mom was on a mission.  She opened the grocery store bag she was carrying and pulled out a package.  While the girls and her husband stood back slightly, she searched until she found a pan and began to heat it on the stove.

"Are you sure you don't want some dinner?" Nancy inquired.

The mom looked at her, wild eyed and determined and replied, "No.  My son has not been able to eat for weeks.  Today he asked for a steak."  She jabbed toward the steak in the package on the counter.  "I haven't been able to do anything for him for weeks, but I. Am. Going. To. Make. Him. This. Steak."   She turned back to the stove.

I understood where that mother was coming from, though I could not comprehend the depths of her experience.  I could feel her despair and her ferocity.  Finally she had a task.  Something she could DO to help her child, and she was no about to let anything get between her and that task.   I also understood that if I didn't get out of there right then, I was going to embarrass myself in front of a bunch of people I didn't know.

I made it to the car before the tears started.

As I drove away, I thought about how smug I had been going into the experience - how I practically expected someone to congratulate me for being such a kind and selfless person.  I thought about how while we were preparing the meal, I was mentally cataloging the details that I would include when I wrote about my act of courage.  We prepared a beautiful meal for the families, and yes, it was done with some love.  But I really had no inkling.  Not a single clue.

All the way home, I thought about how blessed I am.  How charmed my life has been.  How charmed my life has been.  How lucky my children and I were.  I said a prayer for that mom, her son, her husband, and those two little girls.  I asked God's blessing on that meal she was preparing.  I am willing to bet that that steak was the best steak ever made.  It certainly was prepared with love.

The Corinthian Love Test

I've been doing a lot of thinking about love lately.  Seems like every artist or musician who ever put pen to paper has an opinion about its nature and meaning.

So what is love then? Is it dictated or chosen?

Does it sing like the hymns of a thousand years

Or is it just pop emotion?

And if it ever was there and it left

Does it mean it was never true?

-Indigo Girls, "Mystery"

And how is it possible that a fully grown mother of two doesn't have firm grasp on the concept?  I think my definition of love is evolving as I grow and change.  As I discover a deeper love for myself, I begin to see the deeper possibilities of loving someone else.

Regardless, I've struggled to come up with a definition and a way to reconcile some of the conflicting notions I've had lately about love.  And then I stumbled upon a sweet little blog post about tween crushes.  The author of the post tells how she suggested that her daughter evaluate the object of her crush by placing his name into the text of 1 Corinthians 13:4-7.

____ is patient, 

____ is kind. 

He does not envy, 

He does not boast, 

He is not proud. 

He does not dishonor others, 

He is not self-seeking, 

He is not easily angered, 

He keeps no record of wrongs. 

_______ does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 

He always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Now, before you go getting all excited, I have to put in a disclaimer.  I'm no fan of the Apostle Paul.  In fact, I find most of his writings to be misogynistic and narrow.  However, in this letter to the church in Corinth, I think he hit on something very simple and very pure.  The nature of love is not the intensity of the feelings it inspires.  It's about acceptance and compassion, vulnerability and trust. So when I use Paul's text as a rubric to evaluate the loves of my life, suddenly there is no question as to what was love, and what was not - at least according to this definition.

Now comes the hard part.  I put my own name in passage.  Is Rhonda patient?  Is she kind?  Is she not easily angered?

(ANSWER KEY: Not nearly enough, when it's convenient, and no comment.)


The bottom line is that I love to the best of my ability; that's what we all do.  And just because we fall short of this ideal doesn't mean that we don't love.  Or does it?  These are the questions I now consider as I decide what my next steps are going to be.  Rather than seek out another to love, it is better to prepare myself to love to the very best of my ability.  Certainly in my case, that involves learning to love and accept my feelings, my past and present actions, and my whole self.  So rather than concentrate of seeking love, I will instead focus on knocking down the barriers that block it.

Maybe then, I can pass the Corinthian Love Test.