Midweek: A More Practical Love

"I'm going to walk up and get more blades," my husband said on his way out the back door. Now, by "walk up" I thought he meant to the top part of our yard. But, as I was preparing to head to the basement for the laundry, my brain snapped: His truck is parked on the next street! He was walking up a relatively steep incline to the next block in 100+ degree temps with sauna-like humidity --and he has breathing issues. I postponed my trip to the basement until I saw him coming back through our gate, juuuuust in case.

This is not the way our relationship used to look. At one time, Scott was on the road for days. We'd talk when he was driving or go for hours hearing nothing from one another as we each went about our day. I'd stay up crazy hours, hoping to squeeze in a conversation before I went to work. His next job had him leaving the house in the early morning with little more than a hasty peck from me as I dug right into my daily responsibilities. In the evening he'd return to a quick rundown of the day's events, and I'd head off to catch a few hours of sleep before I went to work. "Two ships" we were, but we kept on passing. We rarely gave one another's abilities a second thought. She is healthy. He is strong. And it's not that either of us is critically sick or disabled. But we have had "those scares" and we know that sharing many birthdays together has benefits and consequences. Time doesn't pass in this world without entropy. So, now, in this season of our relationship, we are a bit more intentional about keeping watch. We're a little less hasty in our encouragement. Maybe you should wait until the weather cools to start that outdoor project. Maybe you should get some help before you lift that. Wellbeing is a goal instead of an expectation. 

I like to tell myself this is wisdom and not fear. I like to tell myself that we are savoring time instead of trying to fill it with doing. I hope those things are true. But one thing I know, this change in our relationship is bittersweet. We talk a little more about things like death and grief. That is the bitter. But in so doing, we are filled with gratitude that we have one another, that God has given us so much and watched over us even through our foolishness; we have wonderful family and friends, terrific memories, and we are still very capable of serving our God and others with vim and vigor! That is the sweet. And that is marriage --any relationship, really. The bitter and the sweet. The better and the worse. The richer and the poorer. The sickness and the health. The "watching out for" that was once an unspoken hope or expectation of wellbeing, but in time has become an intentional pursuit. Not the climax of a Hallmark movie, for sure, but a deepening and maturation of love. Love grows. Deep and wide. 

Our youngest was talking about his love for me the other day. "I can love you more," he claimed, "because I have fewer people to love. I don't have to spread it out." And while I could appreciate his reasoning if we had been discussing peanut butter or LEGOs, through loving Jesus, who so infinitely, perfectly loves me, I can love others deep and wide. In loving my husband for years, in difficult seasons, and at times when all I could do was wait for an answer to the question, How can I love him right now? --and being loved so well by this man! --in loving the one human being to whom God has joined me in such a manner, love in me has expanded beyond my wildest dreams. Jesus in the midst of our love has enabled both of us to love one another. He has enabled us to change and grow with that love. He has strengthened our love, preparing us for seasons that might just be a little less carefree and a little more practical. He has multiplied that love. And though our relationship has changed in its appearance, it has not changed in its purposes. To love and care for one another. To be loved and cared for. And to spread that love to others. 

Even when it's as unromantic (but still with as much care) as making sure one of us doesn't die in this heat!