loved

Love is patient, love is kind, it isn’t jealous, it doesn’t brag, it isn’t arrogant, it isn’t rude, it doesn’t seek its own advantage, it isn’t irritable, it doesn’t keep a record of complaints, it isn’t happy with injustice, but it is happy with the truth. Love puts up with all things, trusts in all things, hopes for all things, endures all things. – 1 Corinthians 13:4-7 (CEB)

**I apologize in advance if you have aural or olfactory sensitivities.  I really didn’t think this was going to go there when I started writing.**

It’s easier for me to love someone else than to be loved.  Maybe it’s my can-do midwestern and German heritage.  Or my INFJ personality that likes to get things done.  Or maybe it’s because being loved is out of my control.

I can do things to try to be loved.  I’ve done a lot of personal work on letting go of my fear of failure.  I’ve learned to love and embrace parts of me that might be seen as weaknesses.  The fear of shame was really about the fear of not being loved.

But failure is a part of life.  I will always be an introverted and serious person.  This is who I am.  If I am loved for someone I’m not, than am I really loved at all?  To be loved requires vulnerability and honesty. 

I spent part of this week with a sage seven-year old.  She got a ring from the 25¢ vending machine and thought it was the most amazing thing.  “Can you believe they are giving away jewelry for only 25¢!”

She put the ring on her left hand and said she was married.  I asked to whom and she said, “My pillow.  I love my pillow.”

That is a love I can understand!  Whenever I am driving, I always travel with my pillow.  She went on to say how it was so comfy, and then “I can fart on it.”

I thought about that and then replied, “That’s probably important in someone you marry.  Someone who will let you fart on them.”  She then proceeded to tell me all the ways her family farts on each other.

I realize for some, this might be appalling.  But I get what she’s saying.  I am the mother of two teenage boys.  There is a lot of farting in our house – including my own fair share.  I should have expected this because one of the first times I was hanging out with Dave when we met 29 years ago, he and his friends were lighting their farts on fire.  (Yes, I’ve told my boys this is not really the best way to impress girls).

I guess one could be very crude and farting wouldn’t be about love but about not caring.  But for most of us, the familiarity and vulnerability involved in letting someone fart on us (or vice versa) is a sign of honesty… and love.

May we all love and be loved today.

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It’s Five Minute Friday. Today’s prompt took me a little longer than five minutes but it was still a free-write.  You can read what others wrote here.