What Words does Love Use?

Words are so powerful. They convey more meaning than intended at times and are oft misinterpreted. Words are one of the vehicles we use to communicate. I find it amazing that men will say what they were thinking although what they were thinking wasn't articulated in the same way it was thought out. For example, a man may think, "Wow, you look irresistibly stunning, I'm more excited than a jackpot winner" but will say "Honey, I didn't know you were this pretty." It is in such moments, that she may feel like she isn't beautiful to her man all the time? That it requires her to dress up to get attention. She may still look for love and validation by next asking, "Honey, does this dress make me look fat?" And he, forsaking the intimacy of a moment for the pleasure of laugh will say, "Nope, it's those Twinkies and Ding Dongs you can't stop eating that make you look fat." She will wonder if he lives in a bubble, if he truly loves her, and if he loves her – why would he tell her something he knew for sure would hurt her to her core. Saying words that damage someone's heart is like using a machete to cut strawberries. The fruit will be sliced, but the resulting mess takes time to clean up.

I will never forget how profoundly impacting words; simple words were when they fell upon my ears. I will never forget the lonely walks to my car, the only sounds I could hear being my tears hitting the pavement. Like a thud they'd echo, each droplet a new lyric to a rhythmic pattern of isolation and self loathing - you're too this, and not enough of that, you're great at these things, but not at those. It was when I felt the most damaged, that I secluded in my own world – a world where no one could hurt me again. My own space; I'd be a silent observer to a painful world. I'd be present in presence alone, but I'd keep the best presents I had to offer for only me. How sad. How sad! The only time some words were funny was when they didn't touch me - know what I mean?

I believe that love, when guarded is like living in a bubble. You can see the entire world God has offered, but you're unable to touch it. You can hear it, you can smell it, you can even feel it - but it is not authentic. The touch you feel is behind a plastic shield, being guarded, you can only smell the rich enigmatic aroma delving into your nostrils, but you aren’t able to actually taste the food. Being in the bubble is like hands touching opposite sides of glass, feigning at attempts for contact. I don't want to live in a bubble. I want to take a chance, maybe experience pain, maybe hear something hurtful, maybe wanting to hide, all to know the pleasure of being loved in its truest state. I hope the pain I've experienced has taught something; how to recognize, true love, God's love, a friend's love, a spouse's love when it reaches me? I'd appreciate my journey more, if I walked the path with Jesus rather sitting on a tram hearing a narrated description of my life. It is mine; I choose to live it, how about you?

Now let's go back to that couple, this time the husband asks his wife, "Honey, does this shirt make me look fat?" Love chooses the right words. Love is not selfish. Love is what we’re all searching for, but we have to abandon our "bubbles” to find it. Love responds with love; you know it when you hear it, you recognize it when it’s needed, you feel it when it’s given.