There’s an uncertainty that comes with the kind of love the world celebrates.
We often hear things like "we fell out of love."
What does that even mean?
That you once professed undying affection, said someone was your breath, your world, and suddenly, they’re the cockroach in your cupboard you can’t wait to get rid of?
Worse still, there’s now someone else you’re miraculously in love with, and you claim you can’t live without them either.
Maybe it’s not just my convictions about romantic relationships that have kept me grounded all this while.
Maybe it’s the way love is portrayed, this rollercoaster of extremes that unsettles me.
I can’t quite understand how someone becomes your everything one moment, and is replaced the next.
Neither do I understand the non-committal kind of love that is so common.
And I most certainly don’t understand the kind of love that gets lost in time, the kind that won’t sacrifice, that refuses to let things slide, that nurtures resentment and hatred.
The kind that’s only spoken of, not seen.
The dysfunctional kind.
Let’s be honest: we have limited prototypes of the real kind of love, the kind God intended.
I dare say, the kind Solomon experienced with the Shulamite woman.
And yet, it might surprise you to know that I still love love.
Not the watered-down, situational version...
But the real, unadulterated kind.
The kind that shows up even in the middle of arguments.
The kind that glows through challenges.
The kind that is patient.
Hopeful.
Enduring.
The kind that gives and receives equally.
Not just to experience that kind of love, but to be capable of giving it, too.
Definitely–one day.
Until then,
Yours in love,
Judith
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