Posted a thought earlier this year about Love and Marriage where Ravi Zecharias had shared that "Love then is a command, not just a feeling. Love is as much a question of the will as it is of the emotion. And if you will to love somebody, you can."
Off and on, I have been challenged to contemplate what it means to really love Ed as well as what it means to show love. It's so easy when one first gets together as a couple to be all lovey dovey. However, the challenge lies in maintaining that love in actions and in words when the post wedding euphoria fades. As both parties learn how to 'deal' with each other on a daily basis, we also start to see the uglier side and realise that we are really just typical imperfect human beings.
Was reminded about this again when I read about a writer's journey on making an effort to love his wife:
I made a vow to myself on the drive down to the vacation beach cottage. For two weeks I would try to be a loving husband and father. Totally loving. No ifs, ands or buts. The idea had come to me as I listened to a commentator on my car's tape player. He was quoting a Biblical passage about husbands being thoughtful of their wives. Then he went on to say, "Love is an act of will. A person can choose to love."
To myself, I had to admit that I had been a selfish husband--that our love had been dulled by my own insensitivity. In petty ways, really: chiding Evelyn for her tardiness; insisting on the TV channel I wanted to watch; throwing out day-old newspapers that I knew Evelyn still wanted to read. Well, for two weeks all that would change.
And it did. Right from the moment I kissed Evelyn at the door and said, "That new yellow sweater looks great on you." "Oh, Tom, you noticed," she said, surprised and pleased. Maybe a little perplexed.
After the long drive, I wanted to sit and read. Evelyn suggested a walk on the beach. I started to refuse, but then I thought, Evelyn's been alone here with the kids all week and now she wants to be alone with me. We walked on the beach while the children flew their kites.
So it went. Two weeks of not calling the Wall Street investment firm where I am director; a visit to the shell museum, though I usually hate museums (and I enjoyed it); holding my tongue while Evelyn's getting ready made us late for a dinner date. Relaxed and happy, that's how the whole vacation passed. I made a new vow to keep on remembering to choose love.
There was one thing that went wrong with my experiment, however. Evelyn and I still laugh about it today. On the last night at our cottage, preparing for bed, Evelyn stared at me with the saddest expression.
"What's the matter?" I asked her.
"Tom," she said, in a voice filled with distress, "do you know something I don't?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well . . . that checkup I had several weeks ago . . . our doctor . . . did he tell you something about me? Tom, you've been so good to me . . . am I dying?"
It took a moment for it all to sink in. Then I burst out laughing.
"No, honey," I said, wrapping her in my arms, "you're not dying; I'm just starting to live!"
- Tom Anderson, "How Love Came Back," Reader's Digest, October 1986, pp. 129-30
True love is unselfish and I'm still learning what it means to love my husband-to-be.
Although this perfect wife journey might take my entire life, at least I should always be conscious that love isn't always what I want it to be. And I have about 2.5 months to get prepared. *gulp*
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